Grass Is Always Greener
by moosals
Summary: Did you ever stop and look at your life and realise you aren't where you want to be? Did you ever chance look at someone else's life and wonder if their grass really is greener? AH
1. One

**Disclaimer :** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note :** This was inspired by a true story that I heard on BBC Radio 4 over a year ago. I had no intentions of ever writing fanfiction at that time...

* * *

 **One**

I met him in a second hand bookstore.

He was sitting cross legged on the floor, with a book in his hand and several more scattered around him. I grabbed a random book off the nearest shelf and, in an attempt to hide my curiosity, held it open in front of me as I studied him.

He was lean, perhaps a little too much so, dressed in faded jeans and a T-shirt that was probably white once upon a time. When it wasn't turning pages, his free hand kept finding its way into his reddish-brown hair, pulling it in all directions.

Quietly swapping books to keep up my pretence, I looked more closely at his face. His skin was pale and smooth and his strong jawline was enhanced by stubble that was maybe a couple of days old. His features were perfect - a straight nose, long, dark eyelashes and full lips.

I was captivated and, apparently, unable to keep quiet.

"What are you reading?" I asked, wincing at the volume of my voice.

He tilted the book to display the front cover and the title "Edible Wild Plants."

I was all too familiar with a similarly titled book that my mother had bought years ago. She had insisted on _doing her bit_ while my father was out river fishing with his friend Harry. As with most of her interests, it was a thankfully short-lived phase.

"I like to hunt for my food," he said suddenly, looking up at me.

I was temporarily stunned by his gaze; his eyes were such an unusual shade of green.

"Huh?"

"It's good to know what's safe to eat and what isn't," he clarified.

"Do you really find that kind of thing appetising?" I shuddered, remembering my mother's disastrous efforts with nettles.

"It's okay, if you're hungry enough."

"Are you hungry now?" He must be, I thought, if he's living off foraged food. Then a repugnant image flashed through my mind of him scraping dead animals off the road. Does he eat roadkill too?

"Surely, you aren't concerned about my diet?"

"Well, you do look kind of thin," I said without thinking. "Would you like to go out for dinner? My treat."

He frowned for a moment, probably weighing the pros and cons of accepting a free meal from a stranger, then his face relaxed into a smile.

"That would be nice. Now?"

"If you like. I'm on my way home from work and I haven't eaten yet."

He gathered together the books on the floor and stood up. Immediately, I became aware of our height difference and took a step back to look at him without craning my neck.

He turned around and set about putting every single book back on the top shelf. I took the opportunity to discreetly study his rear before he turned back, smirking.

"Are you going to buy that," he asked, raising an eyebrow and pointing to the book in my hands.

Having no idea what I was holding, I looked down and closed the book to see the title "Never Eat Alone" in bold, black letters.

"You seem to be doing alright on your own," he said, laughing.

Feeling the heat rising in my cheeks, I hurriedly returned the volume to its place on the shelf.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he said, reaching out his hand.

"I'm Bella." I put my hand in his, smiling. "Bella Swan."

He gently pulled me toward the desk at the front of the store. The sales girl passed him a duffle bag and a well worn leather jacket from the back of her chair. With a flirtatious gleam in her eye, she said, "See you again tomorrow, Edward."

...

Fifteen minutes later, we were sat in a booth in a small Italian restaurant down the street, each awaiting an order of spinach and mushroom lasagne.

On entering the restaurant, Edward had quickly informed me that he was a vegetarian. I was relieved to know that, if he were ever to invite me to his place for dinner, roadkill would not be on the menu.

We sat quietly until our food arrived then I tried to restart our conversation.

"You have a lovely voice. Um, I mean, um, accent. Shit, sorry."

I put my hands over my face to cover my embarrassment and watched through my fingers as he pursed his lips, no doubt trying to stifle another laugh at my expense.

I tried again. "Where are you from?"

"It's complicated," he said, smiling.

"I think I can keep up."

"I was born in Chicago, but I grew up in London."

"Oh, so you're not British then?" I frowned, still a little confused.

"I'm a dual citizen," he explained. "My father is British. He was studying in Chicago when he met and married my mother. He was offered a job back home in London before I turned two and so we moved."

"Do you live here now?"

"Yes. I followed in my father's footsteps and came here to study, but I chose to stay."

"So, are you a regular at the bookstore?" I asked.

"I go there most evenings, yes."

"You must buy a lot of books."

"Not really, no."

"Do you buy any?" I said, teasing him.

"Some."

"But not today."

"No, not today."

"Then why go every -?"

"You're not going to let it go, are you?" he snapped.

I pressed my lips firmly together and stared at him for a moment, wondering what he could possibly be trying to hide.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I go to the bookstore, because it's cosy and warm."

"Oh." I looked down at my plate, then across at his. He'd barely touched his food, just moved it around the plate a little. I'd invited him out to eat, then made him uncomfortable with my incessant questioning and now I felt awful.

The silence was becoming awkward. He reached a hand across the table and touched his fingertips to mine.

"Would you tell me about yourself?" he said. "What do you do?"

I took a deep breath. I didn't really want to talk about my life, but maybe if I did, it would at least give him a chance to eat his food.

"I'd always dreamed of becoming a writer," I said, the cynicism building in my tone, "but internal communications wasn't quite the type of writing I had in mind, when I was studying for my degree."

His eyes were fixed on me as he chewed his food. He waved his fork for me to continue.

"So, I had this bizarre, idealistic notion that I could work during the day to pay the bills and write short stories or something in the evening, maybe even send them to magazines and get them published. But in reality, any creativity I have is drained out of me each day at work, writing boring newsletters and memos or softening the blow of yet another reorganisation to an ever decreasing workforce."

"Ah," he said, "I know all about having one's creativity sapped."

"Sometimes I feel like I've been following some prescribed template for life - school, college, work, apartment, car - and now I'm caught up in an eternal loop that I can't escape."

"You said you were on your way home. Do you live in town?"

"I live above a bakery on the west side."

I waited for him to reciprocate and tell me where he lived, but instead he finished chewing his last mouthful and asked, "Volturi's Bakery on Parkside?"

"Yes, that's the one." I bit my lip, very aware that I'd just told a stranger exactly where I lived. My police chief father would be so proud.

We ordered some coffee, but he turned down my offer of dessert. I was beginning to feel that he might just want to get away.

...

My car was parked back near the bookstore and Edward offered to walk me there.

"Can I offer you a lift home?" I asked.

"No, thank you. I can walk. It isn't far."

"Come on, Edward, it's cold. Please let me drive you home."

He looked at his feet, mumbling something to himself, then walked around to the passenger door and got in. I took my seat behind the wheel and turned to him.

"Where do you live?"

"Near the fitness centre."

I was pretty certain there weren't any residential buildings in that part of town, but drove to the fitness centre anyway. I pulled in at the entrance to the parking lot and waited for him to give me further directions.

He was clenching and flexing his hands in his lap, his eyes fixed straight ahead. I reached out and touched his arm.

"Where do you live, Edward?"

He took a deep breath, exhaling as he turned to face me.

"I live in my car." His voice was barely above a whisper. "It's parked in the fitness centre parking lot."

My mind was reeling. His car? Was he homeless? What the hell should I say to that? I really didn't want to hurt his feelings and that admission obviously didn't come easily for him.

He was watching my face intently for a reaction. I was shocked, of course, but I tried hard to keep my face neutral. My mouth, however, said the silliest of things.

"What colour is your car?"

He blinked at me a few times, looking slightly relieved.

"It's silver. I have a silver Volvo."

His eyes were focussed on my mouth as he leaned toward me a little. I took a deep breath in through my nose and just couldn't keep from embarrassing myself yet again.

"You smell really good. How do you manage to stay so clean?"

His lips twitched at the corners for a moment, as if he was trying to suppress a smile, then he pulled back, serious again, looking down at his hands.

"I use the facilities in the fitness centre. I wash every day, but I don't always have time to shave," he said, rubbing his jaw.

His eyes met mine again, his expression nervous but hopeful. He moved swiftly, leaning across the console to plant a kiss on the corner of my mouth before opening the car door.

"You smell really good too, Bella," he said, climbing out of the car. "Thank you - for everything."

I watched him disappear into the darkness of the fitness centre parking lot. I had learned so little about him, but one thing I was sure of. I'd never felt this drawn to a man in my life.


	2. Two

**Two**

When I woke early the next morning, I pulled on my sneakers and a hoodie and ran down the stairs to get some breakfast from the bakery. Lying on the mat in front of the main door was an envelope with my name on it. Inside was a short note, written in beautiful handwriting.

 _Thank you for dinner._

 _May I see you again?_

 _Edward_

There was no phone number or any indication as to how I should reply, but I suspected I knew where he'd be at the end of the day.

I thought about him all day long while I went through my usual Saturday routine of laundry, cleaning and grocery shopping. I was intrigued by this man and desperately wanted to know why he was living in his car.

It was just beginning to get dark when I finally made the decision. I grabbed my purse and headed out.

There were quite a few cars in the fitness centre parking lot, but in the corner furthest from the building, away from all the lights, was a silver Volvo station wagon.

I sat in my car for an age, watching and waiting for some sign that Edward was in the vehicle. I assumed the windows were tinted, because I couldn't see anything through them.

Eventually, after nearly all the other cars had left, I got out of my car and, on shaky legs, made my way over to the Volvo.

I was barely breathing as I rapped on the passenger window. When the car rocked, showing signs of movement inside, I jumped back with a start. The rear side door opened and Edward's face appeared, peering out into the darkness.

"Bella?"

The words rushed out of my mouth as I turned away to go back to my car. "I'm sorry, I've woken you. I shouldn't have come!"

"No, don't go! Come inside and get warm."

He shifted back into the trunk, allowing me to clamber in onto a camping mattress - his makeshift bed.

"Hang on," he said, as I pulled the door shut behind me. I could hear him fumbling around in the dark and then suddenly the car was lit by the soft glow of a small wind-up lantern.

Edward was sitting crossed legged, facing me, with his blankets wrapped around him.

I wiggled around to get comfortable, ending up sitting with my back to the door and my knees bent up in front of me.

Looking to my right, I could see a box of books and papers on the front passenger seat. Clothes were strewn over the back of the driver's seat and when I leaned over a little, I could see a large, paper grocery bag, containing various toiletries and vitamin bottles, in front of the steering wheel.

Turning back to the rear of the car, I took in all the boxes and holdalls that held his possessions. There was a cooler near the tailgate and, on top of it, a clear storage box containing cooking utensils, Thermos flasks, camping pans and a car kettle.

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

"What are you thinking?"

"Um, you seem to have everything you need in here."

"Yeah, I manage okay."

"Do you... Can you... Why are you living in your car, Edward?"

"I lost my job."

I covered my mouth with my hand and looked at him with concern.

"It's not what you're thinking," he said. "I was a graphic designer in the city and had been with the company since college. There was a major reshuffle and half my department was laid off.

"For a while I tried to find something else, another design job, but the only jobs available were for new graduates. To be honest, I didn't feel inclined to try too hard. I'd always loathed that everything in my line of work was computerised. I prefer my art to be more immediate, to have some risk, some energy to it."

"That's what you meant about having your creativity squashed?"

"Sort of, yes, but it was partly my own fault. I was a fool when I chose my field of study. Back then, I thought what I wanted was a lucrative career, to be able to buy and do whatever took my fancy. I opted for something I knew I'd be good at and I was, very good."

"So...?"

"So, I was running out of money and resented the idea of using my savings to line the pockets of my landlord."

"Why didn't you just get a roommate?"

"I didn't want to share my apartment with a stranger. I found myself questioning the way I was living and realised how dissatisfied I'd become with the conventional lifestyle I was trying to maintain. I gave my landlord notice and sorted through my possessions, keeping only what was essential for day to day living. I stored my valuables with a relative and sold everything else on eBay."

"How long ago was this?"

"About nine months."

"Are you happy now?"

"I think so, mostly. It isn't always easy, but this life suits me. My time is my own and I can travel whenever I want a change of scene. I like not having things around me that are superfluous; everything I own has a function or is used every day. It's quite liberating really."

"What about money for food and gas? Are you using your savings?"

"No, actually, I'm not anymore. I've discovered something I enjoy doing to support myself. My cousin, Emmett, is a firefighter and, off shift, he runs a small home decorating business. Someone asked him if he could paint a mural in a child's bedroom and he thought of me. I've had a few commissions since then, but I also do decorating work with him, whenever he needs another pair of hands. He lets me store my materials and some other stuff in his garage."

"Why didn't you just house share with him?"

"He lives with his girlfriend and she barely tolerates me. Besides, they live in Portland and I don't want to live in a big city anymore."

"Do you have a cell phone, Edward?"

"Yes, but it's not connected anymore; I cancelled the contract. I still use the phone at the public library or the bookstore, wherever there's free wifi, to check my email once or twice a week and that's how Emmett let's me know when he has a job for me and how I answer any enquiries. He's made a feature of my murals on his website."

"Why don't you have a website of your own?"

"I've thought about it," he said, "but I don't have a computer anymore. I sold it."

I looked toward the front seat again, curious to see his work.

"Are those your sketchbooks?" I asked, pointing to the box.

"Yes."

"Can I see?"

"Grab the one on top."

I reached over and fetched the large A4 book with a shiny, black cover.

"Come here," he said, tugging at my arm. I shuffled toward him, letting him guide me until my back was to his chest and his legs were stretched out on either side of mine.

He repositioned the lantern, put his arms around me and began to turn the pages of the sketchbook in my lap. Some were filled with colourful designs, others had line drawings, sketches and diagrams with notes all over them. Occasionally there would be a scrap of paper stuck on a page, something he must have drawn when he didn't have his sketchbook with him. I felt like I was looking into his mind.

"Thank you," I said, feeling overwhelmed that he'd share something so personal with me.

"You're different from other people."

"Different?"

"You never say what I think you're going to say and you don't react the way I expect you to. And you're still here, with me, sitting in my car."

I smiled down at my lap, then twisted my head round to look at him. His face was so close to mine that my heart started racing and I couldn't take my eyes off his. I didn't dare open my mouth, lest I say something stupid and spoil the moment.

"Bella," he said, his lips brushing mine. "Can I kiss you?"

His kiss was tender and sweet, but he seemed to be holding himself back. As he broke away, the smile on his face showed pride, but I couldn't think why that would be the case. Although my hands itched to grab him by the hair and pull him closer for more, I resisted the temptation and simply smiled back.

"Will you stay?" he whispered.

"Yes."

With so little space to move, it took some wriggling and giggling for us to manoeuvre ourselves until we were lying down, clinging to each other under his blankets, me still in my coat, on the narrow camping mattress.

At some point we must have fallen asleep like that, because I woke in his arms as the sun came up. I watched him for a while, until he opened his eyes and smiled lazily at me.

"I'd better go home," I said, knowing I couldn't last much longer without a visit to the bathroom. "Do you - do you want to come for breakfast?"

"There you go again!" He winked at me. "You're just trying to fatten me up."

"No, I just don't like eating alone."

...

It's warm in here," he said, sitting himself down at my kitchen table.

"Living above a bakery has its advantages, even when they're closed," I said, putting the coffee machine on.

I set about making some eggs and toast, while Edward wandered around my apartment, calling out the occasional question about photographs or books on my shelves.

We ate our breakfast in relative silence, with Edward making noises every so often to indicate how much he was enjoying it. I wondered how often he ate hot food. I couldn't imagine how he could cook in his car and I was fairly certain that he didn't live on takeout or restaurant food.

"I should leave you to get on," he said, standing up to put his plate and cup in the sink. "Unless… Do you want to do something together today?"

"Yes, I'd really like that."

"How about a walk in the park and a picnic lunch? My treat," he said, winking.

"Do you want a ride back to your car?"

"No, I'll walk back and do some shopping on the way. I'll pick you up at 12.00, okay?"

I followed him down the stairs to the main door and watched him walk away down the street. He must have felt my eyes on him, because he suddenly turned to face me and I swear he was laughing as he turned back to resume his course.


	3. Three

**Three**

When Edward returned at midday, he had clearly showered and changed for our date. His hair was damp and disheveled, presumably rough-dried with a towel, and his face clean shaven.

He was so beautifully distracting, it took all my effort to concentrate on locking my door.

As I got into his car, I looked back into the trunk. His mattress had been rolled up and the bags and boxes rearranged, probably to make the weight more evenly balanced and maybe to disguise that fact that it was his home.

Noticing that the rear windows were indeed tinted, I recalled something from the previous night.

"Edward, how do you manage to sleep without curtains?"

He looked sideways at me, with a small smile on his face.

"In the beginning, I tried every method I could think of to black out the windows - hung up T-shirts, cut up pieces of cardboard, even bought a variety of shields and shades - but after a few weeks I stopped bothering and allowed myself to adjust to the natural rhythm of the day."

"But what about privacy? You know, for changing your clothes and... um... stuff."

He sniggered for a moment before schooling his face to answer my question seriously.

"I usually sleep in my day clothes, swapping jeans, if I'm wearing them, for sweatpants. I don't put clean clothes on until after I've been able to wash, but I'm pretty adept at changing my underpants under a blanket when I need to, Bella."

I turned my flushed face to the window and he laughed, as he parked the car.

We spent the afternoon following a trail through the wooded area of the park until we found a secluded place to sit and eat. Edward had made us some peanut butter and grated carrot sandwiches on seeded bread and had bought some crisp, tart apples, which he cut up with a penknife, to eat with slices of sharp cheddar cheese and walnuts.

He explained that, most of the time, he lived simply on fresh foods such as bread, cheese, fruit and raw vegetables. He kept a store of nuts, dried fruit and crackers in his car and could cook oatmeal and other grains in his Thermos flasks, using water boiled in his car kettle. He didn't want to chance using his camping stove anywhere in town, for fear of drawing too much attention to himself, so would drive out to the Tillamook Forest instead and forage for wild greens to use in omelettes and stews.

We walked back in silence through the trees, listening to the birds and the crunch of dead leaves and twigs underfoot. It was peaceful and soothing and I liked it very much.

When he dropped me back home, just as it was getting dark, I felt as though I could think clearly for the first time in ages.

...

We continued to date for a while, mostly on the weekends.

His choices were always simple with minimal expense, such as a stroll in the park with a picnic, followed by us sitting huddled together under a tree - him drawing in his sketchbook and me writing thoughts down in a notebook. As neither of us had siblings, we were used to being alone and were comfortable with long silences. We made good creative companions for each other.

He took me foraging in the forest one Sunday and together we cooked a nettle and sorrel risotto, which was much more delicious than anything my mother had ever attempted.

I took him to see a couple of movies at the small theatre in town and for two or three meals out in restaurants.

On rainy days, we spent hours browsing in the secondhand bookstore, but he still didn't buy any books. I began to wonder if he had a photographic memory.

Sometimes, I would cook us a meal, experimenting with various vegetarian recipes. I enjoyed cooking for such an appreciative guest, but Edward never stayed the night in my apartment and we never moved beyond affectionate hugs and kisses.

Then one Saturday morning, he arrived unexpectedly at my door, duffle bag in hand, looking truly homeless for the first time. His hair was greasy and matted and his usual scruff now a full beard. His clothes were dirty and I couldn't help but notice that he didn't smell so good.

"There's been a change of management at the fitness centre," he said. "I can't get past the desk without a membership card anymore. Could I use your bathroom, Bella, please."

About half an hour later, a clean shaven Edward walked into the kitchen, looking and smelling much better - absolutely gorgeous to be honest - but he still had a serious expression on his face.

He sat down at the table and I poured him a coffee.

"I'm leaving, Bella."

"What?"

I stood leaning against the counter with my coffee cup halfway to my mouth, staring at him.

"I don't think I can stay in this town anymore, it's too small and word spreads quickly. I think it's time I moved on."

"You could use the parking lot at the swimming pool. It doesn't cost much for a swim, even if all you want to do is have a shower."

"I was refused entry." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "There's a limit to how long I can stay in one place before someone works out my secret and people don't see what I do as a choice, they just see a homeless man and assume the worst."

"Where will you go?" My hand shook as I set my coffee cup behind me on the worktop.

"I don't know, maybe Portland again for a while. It was easier to blend in there and pick a different place to sleep each night, but I hate how busy it is."

I didn't want him to leave. I was falling in love with him.

"Stay. With me. Here." My throat constricted as I forced the words out.

He looked at me, staring right into my eyes as though he were trying to read my mind.

"How do you mean?"

I could feel my chest tightening and tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

"You can stay here - in my apartment," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Camp out on the floor, sleep on the sofa, you can even have my bed. I don't care which, just please don't leave."

I forced myself to breathe in and out while I waited minutes for his answer. Was it such a difficult decision?

"Okay," he said finally. "I'll stay."

I needed to compose myself, so I turned my back to him and made us each a sandwich, while my poor heart and lungs recovered their normal rhythm.

As we sat eating, something occurred to me.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"I thought you had a membership to the fitness centre."

"Er, no."

"How did you manage to use their facilities for so long without one?"

"Excessive charm," he said, looking up from his sandwich. "I think the girls on the desk rather liked seeing the before and after and apparently I have a great ass - ouch, Bella, that hurt!"

...

It worked for a while.

His possessions made it into my flat, but never quite made it out of their bags and boxes. His clothes didn't find their way into my closet, dresser or laundry basket, his toiletries were always neatly contained in a bag, his sketchbooks did not litter my coffee table and Edward - Edward did not at any time attempt to get into my bed.

He was the tidiest, cleanest, most organised _roommate_ I'd ever had. It was almost as if he wasn't living there at all.

He carried on much as before, except he had hot water at the ready in the mornings and somewhere warm to go to in the evenings. I offered him my laptop to set up his own website, but I never saw him using it.

He worked with his cousin some days and on others, he would take himself off for a long walk in either the park or the woods just out of town and fill his sketchbooks with drawings.

At the same time, he began to get a good look at what my life really consisted of - work, work, sleep and more work. I left home early and came back late, drained, uncommunicative and increasingly snappy. Within a couple of weeks, he was asleep on his camping mattress on the living room floor, more often than not, by the time I arrived home.

With little time in the evenings, my Saturdays were still filled with chores, but we continued to spend Sundays together and those days were wonderful.

...

About six weeks after he moved in, there was a departmental change at work and two senior people resigned on the spot. The stress was getting to everyone as our new boss redistributed the extra workload and, since I was now the most experienced member of her team, she gave me the more important and complex tasks.

When I finally got home at the end of the day, Edward was sitting at my kitchen table, waiting for me.

"You can't go on like this, Bella," he said, before I'd even had a chance to take off my coat. "You're driving yourself into the ground."

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" I shouted. "This isn't what I wanted. I hate it, but I haven't got a choice right now. People are depending on me, Edward, I have to go to work."

"Nobody is indispensable, Bella, you could - "

"Don't! You have it so easy. You've no idea how hard it is for me."

"You do have a choice, Bella."

Without another word, he stood up, kissed my forehead and then calmly walked out of the room. Seconds later, I heard the sound of his footsteps going down the stairs and the main door opening and closing after him.

I slumped down on a chair and started to sob.

When my tears had finally abated, I looked around the kitchen. Nothing was out of place. Everything was exactly as it had been before Edward moved in.

I jumped up and rushed into the living room, then checked the utility area and the bathroom. There was not a single box, bag or item of Edward's in my apartment.

What had I done?


	4. Four

**Four**

The next morning, I got up and went to work on autopilot. I came home late to my empty apartment, exhausted by another depressing day at work.

The next morning, I got up and went to work on auto pilot.

And again the next day.

And again until I found myself sitting in my kitchen on Saturday morning, staring into my coffee, wondering what the hell I was doing with my life.

It wasn't meant to be this way - living to work, rather than working to live. This job was meant to be a means to an end, a way to keep myself afloat while I established myself as a writer. How did I let my job become all consuming?

I wanted to be with Edward. The free time I'd spent with him had made me feel creative again. He made me feel as if life was full of possibilities, as if _I_ was full of possibilities.

Edward had never made any attempt to change me, but he had tried to live with me in my world - until he couldn't stand it anymore. Or was it me he couldn't stand? Was he hoping I'd want to be like him? All I'd done was remind him of his old life, the life he couldn't ever go back to.

Though the thought terrified me, it was obvious really. I should leave my job before it destroyed me, but without it I couldn't afford to stay in my apartment. I would have to find a new way to live, just as Edward had done, and the one thing I was most certain of was: I had to do it for me.

I fished a notebook out of the kitchen drawer, opened up my laptop and started looking through my finances. I'd never been a big spender, my loans were paid off and I had some savings to fall back on if things didn't work out.

Soon I found myself reading blog after blog, written by people that had been, or still were, living in their cars. Many had had little choice but to spend months living this way during a time of financial hardship, but some had made a lifestyle choice, much like Edward, to be free to follow a non-conventional life.

There were hints and tips, links, suggestions and recommendations. I was so lost in reading, bookmarking and note-taking, that I didn't realise I had missed lunch completely.

I forced myself to make some dinner and take a break from my research, but no sooner had I finished eating than I was back to work, drawing up a plan for a different future.

When the evening light started to fade, I went to bed, leaving my curtains wide open. If I was going to follow Edward's example, I'd need to start getting used to being woken by the sun.

...

The next morning, I called my dad and admitted how very unhappy I'd become with my life. Then, taking a deep breath, I rushed out the words I needed say.

"I've decided to give up my job and my apartment and I'm going to live in my car." At his silence, I continued talking more quietly. "I want to see if I can be the writer I always hoped I'd be."

"What brought on this decision?" he said.

He sounded calm enough, so I told him everything that had happened since I'd met Edward and how I had come to the realisation that I could change my life, if I really wanted to.

"But your car, Bella? You could just stay with me."

"I know that, Dad, but it's about more than where I live. It's about living simply, being free to go where I want, when I want and having the mental space to be creative. Edward said he felt liberated."

"You say he left you. We're the two of you involved?"

"No, more like best friends really, at least on his side."

"Perhaps he's gay."

"Dad!"

"You may be my daughter, Bella, but I'm not blind. Why else wouldn't he want to be more than friends?"

"I don't know, Dad. Maybe you're right, but it doesn't matter how I have him in my life, I just wish he was still in it."

"Are you in love with him?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Uh-huh. So, what do your friends make of this big decision?"

"I haven't talked to anyone else about it and truthfully, I don't really have any close friends anymore. I haven't had the time or the energy."

"Because of Edward?"

"No, because of my job." I sighed.

"You still in touch with Angela?"

"Not very often. It's hard to maintain a friendship with someone who's at work when you're not, especially when they're living in another city."

"I suppose it is. I'm really sorry you've been so unhappy. You should have talked to me sooner."

"I know." I wiped a tear from my eye.

"Okay, Bella. I know you won't have taken this decision lightly, but there's a few things you're going to need to do to keep your old man from worrying himself sick."

"I'm listening."

"Change your address to mine, it is still you're home after all, and then I'll be able to keep any eye on your mail for you. I'll let you know if anything important comes in."

"I was going to ask you if I could do that."

"Good. Next, don't waste your money on storage. Bring your valuables and anything you want kept safe here and we'll put it in your old room. Hopefully you'll find you miss something and have to come visit me to get it back."

"Oh, Dad."

"Let me know when you're coming and I'll book a service for your car. Might as well bring your paperwork too. I want to check it's all in order."

My dad was right of course, I should have called him sooner. This was typical of him, listening without judgement, offering practical advice and support. No doubt when I visited, he'd supply me with a year's worth of pepper spray.

...

By Monday lunchtime, I had given my notice to both my landlord and my boss.

Old Mr Volturi had always treated me like a daughter, so, while he was sad I would be leaving, he wished me every happiness in my new life.

My boss, on the other hand, was distraught. Having already lost two key members of staff, she pleaded with me to work three months notice, instead of the required two weeks, while she was recruiting.

"I'll be travelling," I said, unwilling to give her a more accurate picture of my intentions.

"Couldn't you work remotely?" she asked. "You could write up my notes for me, do some of the regular mailings and edit copy for junior staff members - mentor them even."

I took a few moments to consider her suggestion. The extra income would be useful, especially once I'd stopped paying rent and utility bills. It would buy me more time to establish my writing career, but I had to remember why I wanted to stop work in the first place - to give myself mental space.

"I'll do it, but I'll only work the hours in my contract. No more overtime."

"Okay."

"And once I'm on the road, I'll need to be more flexible about when I work."

"So long as deadlines are met, that should be fine."

I made sure to leave the office at a sensible time for the rest of the week, so I could spend my evenings working through my change of address list.

At the weekend I packed up everything I wanted to take to my dad's house in Forks.

Next, I covered my bed with all my clothes and started to sort through them. My non-work clothes were all quite casual and most were fairly easy to wash and dry, so it wasn't as difficult as I'd expected to put together a wardrobe for my new life. I decided to store my nicest work clothes in my old closet at my dad's house, just in case. Everything else could be donated to charity.

I managed to reduce my necessities to a few bags and boxes that just about fit in the trunk of my car. It was then that I realised I was going to have to sleep on the rear seat to make this work.

...

On Tuesday evening, when I returned from work, I found a letter on my doormat, postmarked Bend, Oregon.

My heart was pounding as I sat on the stairs and opened the envelope to find a pencil drawing of Edward and me, sitting side by side under a tree. I turned it over to find the words he'd written by hand.

 _Dear Bella,_

 _I'm so sorry._

 _I never intended to be away this long, only to give us both some space to think. This job was only supposed to last a week, but the client keeps adding more work to the schedule and all I can do, while I work, is think of you._

 _I miss you much more than I ever thought possible and I'm beginning to think that my home is with you, wherever you may be, and, Bella, I am homesick._

 _There are things I need to say, things I should have said before I left. I've been holding back and I'm sorry._

 _Will you wait for me, Bella? I'll be back as soon as I can._

 _Edward x_

Tears of relief were streaming down my face by the time I'd finished reading the letter. His words were soothing and suggested my own feelings might be reciprocated. And so I finished my final week in the office with an increased sense of hope in my heart.

I went to bed early on Friday evening and got up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, to make the five hour drive up the coast to Forks.


	5. Five

**Five**

It was nearing eleven o'clock when I finally arrived in Forks and made my way through the familiar and unchanging streets of my childhood.

Parked in the driveway of my father's house was a gorgeous, red Chevrolet station wagon that reminded me of my old truck. Perplexed, I got out of my car just as my dad was coming down the front steps.

"Do you like it?" he asked, nodding at the Chevy.

"Why do you need a big car, Dad? Have you got another family you haven't told me about?"

"It's for you, Bella," he said, laughing. "I did some research and asked around. One of the guys down at the station knew someone who needed a quick sale. It's been well looked after and serviced regularly and it's a good vehicle for what you'll be doing. Much better than that little thing you have there."

I looked back at the car I'd been driving, remembering how the trunk was full with just a few bags and boxes.

"Come see," he said, regaining my attention. "The windows are tinted and the rear seats fold down so you can sleep properly and there's plenty of room for all your stuff."

He opened the tailgate to show that the rear seats were indeed folded down completely flat. There was a camping mattress laid out on one side and on the other was a cooler and some lidded plastic crates, stacked and tethered with bungee cord.

I was overwhelmed with emotion as I threw myself into my dad's arms.

"Thank you."

"There's more. Look," he said, sounding a touch uncomfortable with my excess of affection.

He opened one of the crates to show me a car kettle and a neat little stove with some fuel cells, just like the one Edward had used in the Tillamook Forest.

"You can store dry food in one of these and use the others for clothes and books and stuff."

He lifted the crates out onto the ground to reveal three compartments that we hidden in the floor of the trunk. He'd already stashed a first aid kit and a large flashlight in one of the smaller ones.

Then, taking me by the hand, he pulled me around to the front passenger side and opened the door.

"Get in," he said.

I looked at him, puzzled, but followed his instruction.

"Look in the glove compartment."

I laughed through my tears, seeing a big supply of pepper spray and a rape alarm. He'd thought of so many things I'd intended to buy and then some.

"Why, Dad?"

He shuffled his feet a bit. "Because I love you, Bella, you know that."

"No, why are you helping me and not trying to stop me?"

"You're all I've got, Bella. I just want you to be happy... and safe. Very safe."

I felt in my pocket for a tissue and wiped my eyes.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" he asked.

"Just a granola bar in the car."

"Diner it is then. Let's unpack your old car and then we can take your new one for a test drive."

...

"So this Edward, he's a decent guy?" My dad said, popping his last fry into his mouth and eyeing the ones on my plate.

"I think so, yes."

"Why did he leave you then?"

"He... he had a job to do in Bend and I think... I think he intended to tell me, but, when I came home that night, I wasn't in a fit state to listen."

"He could have waited, couldn't he?"

"I guess we both needed time to think about stuff. I don't know. He sent me a letter."

"A letter, huh?"

"Yes. He says he's coming back."

"Are you going to get together with him? Is that why you're doing this?"

"I really am doing it for me, Dad, but yes, if he wants us to be together, then I'd like to try, even if it's just as friends. He makes me feel good about myself. He makes me believe I can do so much more with my life."

"Just remember, Bella, whatever happens, you always have a home here with me and you're always welcome, no matter what."

He looked away toward the door behind me and, as I turned my head to see what had caught his attention, he stole the last of the fries off my plate.

"Dad!"

He laughed for a moment then cleared his throat. "Right then, what do you say we take your list and go to Newton's for some supplies? Maybe Mike will give you an employee discount for old time's sake."

...

My first day of working remotely felt strangely quiet. My boss, assuming I would either be on the road or in a public place, had agreed that phone calls would be kept to a minimum, so most of my correspondence was to be by email or text message.

I finished everything so much quicker without the usual interruptions, but took care not to submit my work too early in the day, in case my boss began to overload me.

As the week went on, I spent more and more time in the public library and in one of the coffee shops in town, trying to get used to the idea of working in different environments.

On my return from Forks, I'd ordered myself a mini iPad with a Bluetooth keyboard, figuring it would be far more portable and discreet than my old laptop. Once I'd cleaned up the laptop, I intended to ship it to my dad. I'd persuaded him to reinstate his internet connection at home with the incentive that I would keep a blog, so he'd know where and how I was.

I spent my Thursday evening setting up the iPad, transferring my files and photographs onto it and various forms of online storage. The following night was spent downloading free copies of my favourite classic novels, to console myself for having to store the majority of my real books in Forks.

I was just about to switch everything off and go to bed when I received a reply to a comment I'd posted on one of the car living blogs. The blogger, a woman named Alice Brandon, had given up a successful career in futures trading in New York, to travel across the States from east to west. She was requesting that I email her my contact details so that we could talk privately.

In what turned out to be a very timely decision, with only one week left living in my apartment, I responded immediately, adding my phone number just before pressing send. Within seconds my phone was ringing.

After a few minutes of introductions, Alice launched into an interrogation as to why I was about to make myself homeless. She was so easy to talk to that I found myself telling her everything about the past few months of my life, including Edward.

She gave me some good advice on staying sane and clean on the road, the most important of which, she said, was to invest in a top rate gym membership. She recommended the chain she was using, saying it was worth the "less than two bucks a day" for the higher level locations alone. These had the best facilities, private shower cubicles and a towel service.

"One week in every month, swimming pools and communal showers just won't do, Bella," she said, "and drying a wet towel in your car smells rank!

"And get yourself a pair of flip flops to wear around the pool, sauna and showers. Those floors can be nasty. Oh, and if you do no other exercise, go to the yoga classes. It will help keep you nice and flexible for all kinds of activities in your car."

I didn't ask, but somehow I didn't think she meant painting my toenails.

She admitted she had pretty much planned her entire route across the continent so that she was never far from one of these fitness centres, timing her travel across those states without them very carefully.

"I'm headin' for Texas next," she said, putting on a fake southern drawl that had me laughing along with her. "Reckon I might find myself a cowboy.

"Let me know how you get on, Bella," she said more seriously. "I have a feeling we're going to be really good friends and I can't wait until I get to Oregon and meet you."

I'd barely said ten words in the latter part of our conversation, but it was really good to know I could talk to another woman who would understand what I was doing.

...

Early next morning, I drove toward Portland to the nearest higher level fitness centre in the chain Alice had recommended. I took her advice and signed up for a whole year, feeling extremely grateful that I would still be earning a decent wage for a few more weeks.

Before leaving home, I'd packed my car with all of my necessities so I could try sleeping in it overnight. I spent the day using my iPad to set up my own blog, moving from coffee shop to library to bookstore, and not forgetting to buy myself a pair of flip flops with inch thick soles.

At around six o'clock, I sat in the fitness centre parking lot, eating a piece of pizza and watching other patrons come and go. Following the instructions I'd found online, I prepared some oatmeal in a Thermos flask for the morning, then ventured inside to try out my first yoga class since college.

An hour later, I used the restrooms before cautiously getting myself snuggled down under a blanket in the trunk of my Chevy, making sure I was completely covered. Should anyone try to peer in, they would hopefully assume the car was empty.

Cars came and went throughout the night. Doors opened and shut and sometimes slammed loudly, but I managed to register each noise for what it was and go back to sleep without it being too much of a disturbance.

As the sun was coming up in the early hours of the morning, I jolted awake when someone tried the handle of my driver's side door. I lay frozen for several minutes, on full alert, until I heard footsteps moving away and guessed that, finding it locked, they'd moved on to try another vehicle.

When I eventually sat up and looked out, I realised mine was the only car in the lot. I clambered into the front seat to eat my oatmeal and waited for some other patrons to arrive before going into the fitness centre to use the facilities.

Alice was right. Having the luxury of a towel service and a private shower after a night in my car was heavenly.

...

On the way home, I stopped outside the second hand bookstore and sat in my car, remembering my first encounter with Edward. I suddenly felt very alone. What if he didn't come back in time? Would I ever see him again?

I dug through my stuff for my small pack of writing paper and envelopes and wrote him a letter, wondering if the girl on the desk would give it to him.

Envelope in hand, I went inside and walked through to the section where we'd met. On the shelf above where Edward had sat was the very book he'd been looking at about foraging. Reading the back cover, I learned that the author was in fact Portland-based and so decided to buy it, assuming he must know the local flora and fauna better than anyone.

As I handed over the money at the desk, the girl looked up at me in recognition.

"Oh, you're Edward's friend, aren't you?"

"Yes. I'm Bella."

"He hasn't been in here for weeks. Is he okay?"

"He's working out of town." I choked around the words, unable to hide my emotions. "I have to leave town soon myself on business and, um, I can't seem to get hold of him. If he comes in, would you give this to him please?" I handed over the letter.

"Sure, I can do that," she said, sounding genuinely happy to help. "Hey, are you okay, Bella?"

"Yes." I picked up my book and turned toward the door. "Thanks, um..."

"Tanya," she called after me.


	6. Six

**Six**

Almost five weeks to the day Edward left, I was ready to start my new life.

I'd spent the last week in my apartment organising and reorganising the boxes and bags that would become my new closet, kitchen and bathroom. My bedding was ready - a sleeping bag, a pillow and some lightweight fleece blankets - and I'd bought a pop-up sun shield for the front windshield, to give me some semblance of privacy.

Everything, bar my small backpack and purse, was in my car, so I began checking and double checking every drawer, cupboard and shelf. I then looked underneath the bed and ran my hand down the sides and the backs of the sofa cushions.

I was procrastinating.

A loud thumping on my door startled me for a second, but then I was bounding down the stairs, my heart ready to break if it was anyone else but him.

"Hello, Bella," he said, his voice low. I felt every inch of skin on my body tingle with excitement. "May I come in?"

Though my mouth opened, no words came out. I nodded and turned to walk back up the stairs. Half way up, I couldn't resist looking round to be sure he was really there, but what I didn't expect to see was him staring my ass. What the...?

We entered the living room and I watched him scan the room before he fixed his gaze on me. It was predatory, as if he were a blood-starved vampire bent on quenching his thirst.

He stalked toward me and I found myself retreating until he had me virtually backed up against the wall. I couldn't contain myself any longer. I jumped on him, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

My back hit the wall as our lips met. Gone were the gentle, almost chaste kisses from before he left; these kisses were passionate and consuming.

Edward pressed his body against mine, our hips connecting for the first time, and an electric pulse shot up my spine. I moaned into his mouth, internally begging him not to stop, but before I could run out of air, he was pulling back to rest his forehead on mine. breathing heavily.

"Bella," he said, groaning, "I'm tired of trying to stay away from you."

I pressed my hips against his, feeling the hard evidence that I affected him too, and started giggling.

"What?" He frowned, but he could barely hold back his own laughter.

"I thought you might be gay."

"I bloody well hope I'm convincing you otherwise!"

In an instant, his hands slid up from my ass to tickle my sides and I shrieked with laughter.

"It's going to take a lot more than being pressed up against a wall, Edward."

"We have some talking to do first," he said more seriously, kissing my nose.

"Yeah." I dropped my legs down to the floor.

"Besides," he muttered under his breath, "I want our first time to be in my car."

I doubt he registered the flush on my cheeks, because he was already turning to take in the state of the bare living room.

"What's going on, Bella? Where are you going?"

I swallowed hard and drew in a breath to steady my nerves.

"I'm moving out, Edward. After you left, I did a lot of thinking."

"I can't tell you how sorry I am for leaving like that. I should have told you where I was going."

"Yes, you should," I said, "but I probably wouldn't have listened."

"I desperately wanted to take you with me that night. You were in such a state and I just... left you," he said, looking ashamed. "I couldn't ask you to change your life, not for me, and I don't have any right to impose my way of life on you."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop me.

"I want to be near you again, Bella, if you'll let me. I'll go wherever you're going, stay wherever you're staying."

"No, Edward." I grabbed hold of his hand as his face fell. "I don't want you to change your life for me either, but you should know that you have already changed me."

His eyes widened as I pulled him toward me.

"From the moment I met you, I've been slowly coming back to life. I didn't even know how much of myself I'd kept buried deep inside until that moment. You leaving made me realise that I had a choice and I chose to set myself free."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to live in your world," I said, watching closely for his reaction, "with or without you."

I half expected him to protest, but the smile that spread across his face was positively jubilant.

"With me, Bella, please," he said, wrapping me in his arms again.

His gurgling stomach broke our momentary silence.

"Would you like to get something to eat?" I lifted my chin and grinned at him. "My treat."

He stared down at me for a minute, then with a cheeky, crooked smile he asked, "Now?"

"Yes, now." I laughed at him. "I was almost on my way out when you arrived."

I pulled myself free and took one last look around my empty apartment, then grabbed my purse and backpack and followed Edward out, locking the door behind me.

"I just need to hand my keys to Old Mr Volturi," I said, opening the door to the bakery.

There were tears in my eyes when I returned, large paper bag in hand, but I wiped them away and wrapped my arm around Edward's waist.

"So, your car or mine?"

"Both," he said, pulling me closer as we walked to the back of the bakery.

...

After spending a surprisingly long twenty minutes admiring my new Chevy, Edward drove ahead of me to the park. We sat in our favourite spot in the wooded area and ate our farewell lunch from Old Mr Volturi.

"What are your plans, Bella? Where were you intending to go?"

"Um, well, I knew you were coming back from your letter, so I was going to wait around town for a few days."

"Shit! If I hadn't turned up today, I wouldn't have known where to find you, would I?"

"Old Mr Volturi had instructions to give you my details, if you asked, and I left a note for you at the bookstore."

"Thank you," he said, leaning over to kiss me. "It's more than I deserve."

"Yes, it is. It would have been so much easier if you'd given me a way to contact you. I couldn't even reply to your letter."

"Sorry." He was silent for a few minutes, his brow furrowed in thought, before he looked up with a tentative smile. "Where do you want to go from here?"

"I don't know really. I've never taken the time to explore the area around Portland, so I'd like to do that. Hopefully, I might find some inspiration to get me writing again."

"Could you come with me on my next job?"

"I suppose so, yes. Where is it?"

"Just north of Scappoose, but we don't have to stay there. I know a good few places we can park up at night without drawing attention to ourselves."

"I'm still working my notice, albeit remotely, so I'll need access to the internet."

"There's a library in Scappoose."

"What about washing facilities?" I'd studied the gym locations map and knew there weren't any that far north of Portland.

"Last time I was working up that way, I used the restroom showers in McCormick Park in St Helens. The swimming pool there is nice too, if you'd prefer to use that."

"Okay." I smiled, feeling better about the idea already. "What's the job?"

"A mural for a boy's bedroom. I'll probably be done in a week"

"How did you get the job in Bend?"

"It was a recommendation from one of our Portland customers. That's how Emmett gets most of our work, by word of mouth."

We looked at each other for a few moments, then I decided to be bold and climb onto his lap, straddling his thighs. I ruffled his hair and he put his arms around me.

"Why have you been holding back, Edward?"

"I was scared," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I still am."

"Of what?"

"Of getting hurt, or hurting you, but I've managed to do both anyway."

"You didn't hurt me, Edward."

"I think I did," he said, opening his eyes again. "I didn't want to go back to how I was before and I couldn't see how it could ever work with us each living such different lives. I mean, why would a woman like you want a man like me?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"I don't have a home or a steady job, Bella."

"You could have asked me?"

"I tried, that last week, but..."

"I'm sorry. I wish you hadn't had to see me like that."

He tightened his arms around me, pulling me to his chest and I felt my body relax for the first time in weeks.

"It's been a very long time since I've let anyone get this close to me," he said after a few minutes silence.

I pulled back and cast a glance at his groin.

"Is that a roundabout way of saying you've forgotten how to use your equipment?"

"Bloody cheek!" he shouted, deftly slipping his hands under my top to tickle me. "I know exactly what to do with my equipment!"

I squealed with laughter. "So, just out of practice then."

"Oh no, Bella," he said, dropping his voice low and leaning forward to murmur in my ear. "Since I met you, I've been practicing very regularly."

A shiver of excitement ran through my body as he began to kiss along my jaw and down my neck.

"I've missed you so much," I whispered.

"I've missed you too," he said, finally bringing his lips to mine.

His hands roamed all over my back and shoulders as our kissing became more passionate. I shifted myself forward and tugged at his hair, causing us both to moan.

Then suddenly he was pulling away.

"Laundry!" he shouted.

"Huh?"

"I have to do my laundry. I'm wearing the only clean clothes I have left."

"What has that got to do with anything?" I was confused and just a little frustrated.

"I can't, uh, make a mess of what I'm wearing, Bella. Not until I've done my laundry."

"Oh! Right, um, well... I guess we'd better go get that done quickly then."

I jumped to my feet, picked up my bags and our trash and started for the parking lot.

"Bella," he called after me. "Could you slow down please? I can't walk very fast at the moment."


	7. Seven

**Seven**

We sat in the laundromat making a shopping list. Edward seemed rather excited at the thought of us buying food together, saying it was more cost effective with two of us.

His cooler was empty and mine contained only the remains of my refrigerator - a couple of packets of sliced cheese, a stick of butter and a few leftover salad vegetables.

Edward suggested we buy a loaf of bread, some fresh fruit that would keep, such as apples and bananas, and some berries for our breakfast oatmeal. He thought we might be able to find somewhere to cook later on, so I added eggs and onions to the list and, when he wasn't looking, chocolate.

I left Edward watching his laundry go round and walked along the street to the grocery store. When I returned with our supplies, he was loading the dryer. He offered to put the shopping in our cars and get some bottles of chilled water to help keep everything cooler for longer.

Being left alone with nothing to do, I started thinking back over the past few weeks. I'd been so busy preparing to change my life that I hadn't ever considered how I would feel once I'd taken the first step.

Could I do this? Would I be able to make a living out of my writing? I hadn't written a story in a long time, so what on earth possessed me to think I could do it now?

I tried to calm myself by folding Edward's dry clothing and was putting the last item into his bag just as he returned.

"Are we ready to go?" I said, keeping my eyes focussed on doing up his bag.

"Near enough." He wrapped an arm around me. "Bella, you're shaking! Are you nervous?"

"A little bit. I've spent one night in my car already, but this is different. There's no going back now." I couldn't bring myself to voice my deeper fear.

"This will seem normal soon enough, Bella," he said, rubbing my arm. "And you _can_ go back - maybe not to your apartment above Volturi's or to the same job, but to that kind of life, if you find it's what you want."

"But what would you do then?"

"This isn't about me. You said you were going to do this with or without me."

"I was. I still am. I'm just feeling anxious, I suppose."

"Come on. Hanging around here isn't helping any. We need to get out into the big wide world," he said, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Scappoose is less than an hour away."

"Ah, but we're going further than that."

"Only by ten minutes!" I laughed at him as he lead me outside.

...

When we arrived at McCormick Park, it was packed with people, seeing as it was a sunny Saturday afternoon.

We decided not to attempt any cooking. Instead, stuffing various items into our bags for a makeshift meal, we found a space to sit down on the grass and began to make some sandwiches.

I noticed Edward take a small, dark glass jar with a yellow lid out of his duffle bag, but he placed it to the side rather than between us with the other food.

"What's that?" I said, pointing to it.

"Marmite."

"What the hell is Marmite?"

"It's a savoury spread for sandwiches. It's quite salty. Do you want to try it?"

He spread a tiny amount of the sticky, brown paste on his slice of buttered bread and offered it to me.

"Mmmm, that's really good," I said with my mouth full. Edward reached for his piece of bread, but I turned away and took another much bigger bite.

"Bella, you should know, no one comes between me and my Marmite. My dad doesn't send it very often and I have to make it last."

"Mmmf." I swallowed. "I saw you. You hardly put any on the bread. That jar will last forever." I stuffed the last piece into my mouth and closed my eyes. I couldn't afford to laugh or I'd choke.

"Dammit, Bella, you weren't supposed to like it! Emmett hates it. He thinks it's disgusting."

"Sorry, Edward, it's delicious. You're going to have to learn to share."

"No, I don't think so. It's a staple food for a vegetarian and you eat meat. It's all mine."

I made a grab for the jar, but he was too fast. In seconds, I was pinned underneath him on the grass, my wrists in his hands either side of my head.

"Promise me you won't take my Marmite." He glowered at me as I giggled.

"Sorry, I can't do that."

"Promise me, Bella."

He lowered his face to mine and I could feel the mood shift between us. I was so tempted to tell him I loved him, but it was too soon, wasn't it? He'd not even been back a day.

"I promise I'll never separate you from your Marmite," I said, pausing when his lips brushed briefly over mine, "because I want you both."

I could see the delight on his face and my heart soared.

"Do you mean it?" he asked.

"What?"

"You want me?"

"Yes."

As he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me properly, he relaxed his grip on my wrists so my hands were free to pull him even closer.

When we broke for air and he moved his mouth to my neck, I suddenly remembered where we were and that there were families all around us. We sat up, somewhat disheveled, and quietly finished eating our dinner.

...

We used the park restrooms to wash up before we left and I filled my empty water bottle with tap water for washing my hands and face in the morning.

Edward knew of a few quieter roads, on the outskirts of the city, where we could park up for the night and hopefully wouldn't be disturbed by the police or passers by. I followed him to one such place, grateful for the stack of empty coffee cups I'd been saving to use as makeshift toilets.

When I'd mentioned the idea to Edward he'd laughed out loud.

"You can go behind a bush, Bella. You don't need those."

"I am not squatting behind a bush with my pants around my ankles in the middle of the night, Edward. You try being a girl and you'll soon change your tune."

"Even men have to squat sometimes," he'd said.

I really didn't want to think about that. I may have grown up in Forks, but I hadn't ever gotten _that_ familiar with the forest undergrowth.

We parked our cars back to back, opening our tailgates to face each other, and got our beds ready for the night.

I began to feel a little awkward. Was Edward expecting me to sleep in his car with him? Would he want to sleep in mine with me? Should I ask him?

I looked across to see he had set up his lantern to compensate for the waning daylight and was sketching furiously, brow furrowed in concentration.

Mirroring his position, I sat on the end of my mattress with my legs dangling out of the trunk of my car. I took out my iPad and keyboard and began writing about my day, omitting the more intimate details.

Dad and Alice would be both able to read my blog by invitation and although Alice might want to know how much closer Edward and I had become, Dad probably wouldn't. Keeping certain things private would also mean I could eventually make the whole thing public.

I lifted the iPad to take a photograph of Edward drawing then reversed the camera to take another of myself, with the interior of my car behind me. I inserted the photographs into the diary entry, together with one I'd taken earlier of the Marmite jar.

I checked my phone and, as it had a decent signal, I paired both my devices and uploaded everything to my blog.

Dad must have been sitting at home waiting for his alert, because within minutes I had a comment from him, wishing me a good night and reminding me to keep my pepper spray and rape alarm close to hand.

Casting a glance at Edward, I gathered my things to prepare my oatmeal and went and sat in the front seat of my car. I boiled water in my kettle to warm the Thermos flask, measured out the oats, boiled more water for cooking, mixed everything together and left it to stand for the night.

I walked back around my car to put my kettle and tub of oats away, but Edward seemed oblivious to what I was doing.

I called across to him. "I'm going to go to sleep now, Edward."

"Okay. Night." He didn't even look up from his sketchbook.

"Well, that answers that question," I muttered to myself, shutting my tailgate and climbing back in through the side door.

I snuggled down under my blankets and drifted off to sleep.


	8. Eight

**Eight**

From somewhere far off in the distance, I could hear a man's voice calling my name.

"Bella."

It was clearer that time. I stretched my legs and pulled the blanket off my face, squinting at the early morning light.

"Bella."

Coming to a bit more, I fumbled around until I managed to open the side door to the cool morning air and Edward, standing in his socked feet, a T-shirt and sweatpants.

"What time is it?" I asked, yawning.

"About half five. Can I come in? It's nippy out here," he said, hugging himself and rubbing his hands up and down his arms.

I rolled onto my side and shuffled until my back was up against the crates and bags behind me. There was just enough room for Edward to climb in and shut the door.

He stretched his long legs out beside mine and pulled me on top of him, rearranging my blankets to cover us both.

"I'm really sorry about last night. I get lost in my own head sometimes when I'm drawing and I've no idea what's going on around me."

"I know," I said to his chest. "I'll probably do the same to you at some point."

"Maybe, but I'm an idiot, Bella. I shouldn't have done that to you on your first night and definitely not after you told me that you want me."

I propped myself up on my forearms and looked him in the eye. "I do want you, Edward."

He slipped his hands under my top and started stroking me, from the small of my back up toward my shoulders. I could both see the surprise on his face and feel the excitement in his pants at his sudden realisation.

"No bra, Bella?" he said, swallowing hard.

"It was uncomfortable." I grinned at him cheekily as I let my legs drop to either side of his, bringing our hips much closer together. I could feel the rough fabric of a hold-all against one thigh and the hard plastic of the car interior against the other.

"Do we have enough room for this?" I asked.

"For what?" He raised an eyebrow, challenging me to make the next move.

"This," I said, pressing my mouth to his.

As soon as my tongue entered his mouth, he began tracing the tips of his fingers back down my spine, across to the sides of my waist and up to my breasts.

I moaned into his mouth and he groaned into mine.

His hands wandered back down to fondle my ass. I tried not to giggle.

"Oh fuck, Bella, where are your pants?"

"I was too hot in the night. I took them off."

He played with the elastic of my panties for a moment, watching me with his eyes wide open, then slowly slipped the fingers of one hand underneath the fabric, caressing and circling until some of those fingers found their way inside of me.

"Oh!" I shifted my hips, rubbing myself against him.

His other hand swept up my back, pulling me down for another kiss as he moved his hips in time with mine.

It wasn't long before I began to feel a delicious heat surging through every muscle in my body. I regained just enough of my senses to watch him follow after me and then collapsed onto his chest.

"Good job we got your laundry done yesterday, isn't it?" With my head resting on his chest, I could feel the rumble of his laughter as he shook beneath me.

"Did you have breakfast yet?" I asked, pressing a kiss to his throat.

"Damn! I forgot to make it last night."

"Well then, you're in luck. I remembered to make mine and I'll trade you half for some bread and Marmite."

"You drive a hard bargain, woman." He squeezed me in his arms.

"Ah! Not too tight. I need to pee!"

We eventually succeeded in untangling ourselves from the confines of my car and Edward stumbled out of the side door.

"Okay," he said, pointing as he spoke, "you take that bush and I'll take the tree over there."

...

"What shall we do today?" I asked as I rinsed out my empty Thermos flask.

"If we leave for the park now, we could sneak into the showers before anyone notices, or we could just hang around here for a while and go for a swim when the pool opens at midday."

"I'd like to go swimming with you."

"Perhaps we can break in your camping stove afterward and cook some lunch."

"Okay." I smiled at that idea. "Can I see what you were drawing last night?"

He picked up his sketchbook, opened it at the right page and passed it to me. I was surprised to see that this drawing was very different in style and subject matter to the others he'd shown me. The dark, almost monochrome image sent a shiver down my spine.

Moonlight shone in through a window to reveal two sleeping forms in twin beds. Hunched over the nearer bed was a sinister figure with red blood dripping from its fangs.

"Wow! Where did you get the idea for this from?"

"While I was working in Bend, the grandmother took a liking to me and kept bringing me cups of tea. She would sit in the room while I was painting and tell me stories about growing up in Wolf Creek. Most of them were gossipy tales about the townsfolk, but, on my last day, she told me a local legend about a vampiric creature that kept making appearances around the area.

"In the 70s, two hikers returned to the inn, where she was working as a maid, swearing they'd seen the creature in the woods. They felt sure it had followed them. When they woke the next morning, one of the men had strange, crescent shaped marks on his neck which looked suspiciously like bite marks."

"That's so creepy," I said, shuddering.

"I've been thinking about it ever since I left Bend, but I hadn't had a chance to get it down on paper until last night."

"You know, this picture reminds me of a piece I wrote when I was in college."

I reached for my backpack and took out my iPad. When I'd found my story, I passed it to Edward and sat back down to watch him read it.

"This is really good, Bella," he said eventually. "Look, it's given me goosebumps."

"It needs more work before I could submit it to a magazine, but your drawing and that story have given me an idea of how I could finish it." I looked down at the page again. "Do you have any other drawings like this?"

"I have a sketchbook that I keep especially for this type of thing," he said, jumping up and striding to the front of his car. He returned with a black, leather-bound, A4 book, lifted a crate out of my trunk and sat down beside me.

"I was too preoccupied last night to get this," he said, slowly turning the pages, "I just reached for the nearest one."

The eerie images, mostly in monochrome like the vampire scene, had me enthralled and excited. "Would you mind if I borrowed this for inspiration?"

"Of course not," he said, getting up and laying the sketchbook down beside me.

As I dug in my bag for a notebook and pen, he carefully removed the vampire drawing from his other sketchbook and tucked it into the black one beside me. I began to study his drawings, scribbling down descriptions and ideas as I went from page to page.

Soon, much as Edward had been last night, I was lost in my own little world.

...

After sitting for so long writing notes, it felt good to stretch my limbs by swimming a few lengths of the pool. When we'd swum enough, we moved out of the lanes to relax. This was the first time I'd seen Edward wearing so little and if it wasn't for all the children splashing around, I would have been tempted to do more than just wrap my arms around him.

We were both ravenous by the time we arrived at the park, so we hurriedly packed our bags with cooking equipment and ingredients then followed the woodland trail, in search of an abandoned campsite.

On our third attempt, we found a free spot and set out our things. We worked together to make a simple, cheese and onion omelette, which we ate hungrily out of the frying pan while sitting on the ground.

"Mmmm, who taught you to cook an omelette?" I asked with my mouth full.

"My dad. It's his speciality. When I was growing up, he cooked omelette and chips - fries to you - every Saturday night without fail. It was my favourite dinner."

"Do you miss your parents?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Then why stay here so long?"

"I got offered a job straight after college. You know that."

"But what about when you got laid off? Didn't you consider going home then?"

"My home is here," he said, looking up at me. His gaze was intense and I wanted to believe he meant something by that statement, but instead looked away to continue with my questions.

"When did you last see them?"

"The month before I was told I would be laid off. They came over here especially to see me. I should have spent Christmas with them in London, but I was already living in my car by then and wanted to save the money."

"Were they disappointed?"

"Yes, very. They don't really understand why I'm living like this."

"You know, you could give them my phone number if you like, so they can call you. Even better, give me their email addresses and I'll send them each an invitation to read all about you in my blog."

He stared at me for a moment while I tried my best to keep a straight face. He had no idea what my diary entries contained as he hadn't seen any of them yet.

When I winked at him, his face relaxed into a smile and he held out his hand. "Here," he said, "give me your phone. That's a really nice idea. My mom would probably like that a lot."

As he entered his parents' details into my contacts, I nudged him playfully. "While you're at it, you could give me your email address too."

He smirked at me and began adding his name to the list.


	9. Nine

**Nine**

Soon after breakfast the next morning, Edward left for his job in Scappoose and I took myself off to the pool for a refreshing swim and a shower.

My working day began in a coffee shop, picking up emails and planning my schedule while I sipped at my drink. Then, as soon as it was open, I headed over to the public library to work in peace and quiet. Whenever I took a break, I did some research on local legends and ghost stories. I also attempted to refresh my knowledge of the literary magazines I'd read in college, but soon realised the best place for that would be my old university library.

Edward returned, sweaty and dirty, at around four in the afternoon, coming to give me a quick kiss in the library before he went to get washed and changed. Unlike me, he had no qualms about sneaking into the campsite showers or using the park restrooms to get clean.

Once I'd finished working, we took advantage of the late afternoon sunshine, laying our damp towels and my swimsuit out to dry on the grass in the park. We put together a simple meal then went in search of a secluded spot to spend the night.

While Edward sat drawing, I typed out a short diary entry and started developing a story idea, but, after an hour, I could barely keep my eyes open. I forced myself to prepare my oatmeal for the next morning and bedded down for the night.

The remainder of our week in St Helens followed much the same pattern. Despite our Sunday morning adventure in my car, our physical relationship had returned to simple kisses and cuddles. We were both tired and I was becoming increasingly aware that my job was still hindering my efforts to be more creative.

When Edward came to find me in the library early on Friday afternoon, I still had a couple of hours work to do. He sat down beside me and began working on a very detailed drawing, which appeared to be based on a scene I'd written and read to him the previous night.

"Edward, you're distracting me," I whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I'd much rather look at what you're doing than do my work right now, but I have to get this finished. There's a deadline."

He closed his sketchbook and packed away his things. "I'll go get washed up and buy us something nice for dinner."

"Thanks. I'll come find you in the park as soon as I'm done."

"Do you mind if I borrow your phone? I'd like to check in with Emmett."

When he reached for my phone, I grabbed his hand and pulled him to me for a kiss goodbye. As soon as he'd left, I reluctantly buried myself in my work again.

...

Edward was sitting on a bench in the play park when I found him. I thought he was watching the children as they clambered over the equipment, but when I sat down beside him, I could see he was frowning at my phone.

"What's wrong?"

"Who's this, Bella?" he asked, turning the phone toward me.

"Ah. My mom and me when I was two."

"You never mention her."

"No," I said, looking away toward the treeline. "She's been gone such a long time, there's not much to say really. She was there and then she wasn't."

"Is she... ?"

"No! Well, at least I don't think so. She left when I was about ten years old. She was always on the lookout for some new interest or activity, so Dad thought it was just another phase, that she'd get bored and come home. She didn't."

"How could she leave her child?"

"I guess motherhood was just a phase too... or maybe I wasn't that interesting anymore. Who knows?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't feel sorry for me, Edward. It's all in the past and I have a great relationship with my dad that perhaps I wouldn't have had if she'd stayed."

"No, Bella, I'm sorry I left you like I did. What must you have thought? How can you forgive -"

"Enough!" I put my hand over his mouth and took a deep breath. "What you did isn't the same, not at all."

He kissed my fingers and took my hand in his.

"Why do you keep her picture?"

"She's still my mom and most of the memories I have of her are good ones. Well, except maybe the foraged food," I said, grimacing.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, holding hands and watching the children playing.

"Emmett says he hasn't got any work booked in for the next couple of weeks. I need to store my painting stuff. Would you like to come with me tomorrow and meet him?"

"Okay. Will his girlfriend be there?"

"I don't know. Probably not, once she knows I'm coming."

"Oh."

"Are you hungry?"

"Famished. I forgot to eat lunch again. What did you get?"

"Fresh bread, cheese and some salads from the market deli." He bent forward and reached between his legs to pull a brown paper grocery bag out from under the bench. He stood up and waved the bag in front of my face.

"Mmm, what's that smell?"

"I got you some crispy fried chicken," he said, grabbing his duffle bag and walking away toward the trees.

"You did?" I said, gathering up my things to follow him. "Will you still want to kiss me when I've eaten it?"

"Probably."

...

The light was fading as we got ourselves organised for the night. I uploaded a short entry to my blog, together with a photograph of me eating my chicken, and waited for my dad's response. There wasn't much to show or tell with such a simple routine, so it was probably just as well that Edward's mom, Esme, had yet to take up my invitation to read it.

Alice's blog was far more interesting than mine. Though she'd told me she was heading for Texas, she was taking her sweet time to get there. She'd left Kansas City and travelled south via Tulsa to Oklahoma City, where she'd stopped for a week to explore.

Her photographs were not just simple snaps, they were beautifully composed pictures. She had an eye for detail and had taken close-ups of architectural features, surface textures and reflections in windows and water. I found the latter intriguing, especially those where ghostly images of passers-by had been unintentionally captured in the shot.

I left Alice a couple of comments, packed my iPad away and sat with my eyes closed, allowing my mind to drift. I imagined having less constraints on my time and travelling from place to place. I'd seen very little outside of Washington and even living in Oregon, I'd pretty much stayed in and around Portland.

"Bella?" Edward's voice broke through my reverie.

"Hmmm?"

"Would you like to sleep with me?"

"Huh?" I opened my eyes, expecting to find him right in front of me, but he was still in his car, fiddling with the contents of his food box.

"Never mind," he muttered to himself.

"Edward Cullen, did you just ask me to sleep with you?"

"Yeah." He turned his head to look at me. "Would you like to?"

"In your car?" Hadn't he said he wanted our first time to be in his car?

"I just want to hold you." So maybe not ready for anything else yet then.

"Okay."

As soon as I'd stood up, Edward hauled my mattress and bedding out of my car and laid it on top of his own. He then proceeded to move most of his things into my trunk so that he could lay our mattresses side by side.

I watched open mouthed as he climbed in and lay down. He had an expression on his face that I couldn't quite determine. Was he nervous?

Stirring myself into action, I moved my purse and backpack across to his car, shut both tailgates and, after a quick pee behind a bush, crawled in through his side door.

Kneeling on my mattress, I reached under my top and undid the clasp of my bra. Edward was monitoring my every move, so I slowly slid the straps down each arm and pulled the bra out through one sleeve. I had to bite my bottom lip in order not to laugh at him.

"You're not going to take your shorts off, are you?" he said, his voice strained.

"Do you want me to?" I replied, snuggling into his side and resting my head on his chest.

"I just want to cuddle you. I'm not expecting anything more."

"Oh. I thought, well, you said that you wanted our first time to be in your car and..."

"You heard that?"

"Yes."

"Shit."

We lay quietly for a couple of minutes.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"You're not a virgin, are you?" I tried to contain my giggle. I was unsuccessful.

His whole body shook with laughter. "No, Bella, I'm most definitely not a virgin."

"You're still holding back though, aren't you?"

This more serious question was met with silence. I propped myself up so I could see his face. All traces of laughter had gone and been replaced with a frown.

"What's worrying you, Edward? Every time I think we're moving forward, you pull away again."

"I think I'm waiting for the penny to drop, for you to change your mind."

"About what exactly?"

"About me. About this lifestyle. This week has been so easy, Bella, but it isn't always like this. And you do still have your job."

I gritted my teeth. "I'm working my notice."

"But your boss would take you back in a heartbeat.

"I don't want to go back," I said, exasperated. "This is the happiest I've been in a very long time and so much of that is down to you."

We stared into each other's eyes until I broke the intensity of the moment with a yawn.

He smiled. "You're tired, Bella, and so am I. Let's get some sleep."

He turned on his side to face me and wrapped me in his arms. I nuzzled under his chin, breathed in his scent and relaxed. This was a nice place to be and far better than being on my own.


	10. Ten

**Ten**

I woke up with Edward's chest pressed firmly against my back and both his hands inside my top, fondling my breasts. I arched my back, inadvertently rubbing my ass against his erection, and remembered that I had removed my uncomfortable denim shorts some time during the night.

One of his hands slid slowly down my body and into my panties. I bit down hard on my bottom lip and stayed silent. I could feel his hot breath on my neck as his lips nipped at my skin, sending sparks of electricity all the way down to my toes.

I wanted more.

His hips began to move, following the rhythm of his fingers which were stroking in and out of me, again and again. When I felt his cock pulsing against my ass, my whole body flushed with heat and I called out his name.

His body went rigid behind me and he swiftly removed his hands as if he'd been burned. I turned over to find him lying on his back, covering his face.

"Edward?"

His response was muffled.

"What did you say?"

He lowered his hands to reveal pink cheeks. "I said I'm sorry."

Was he embarrassed because he'd come in his pants? He hadn't seemed that bothered the last time it had happened. Or was it...

"Were you asleep the whole time?"

"Most of it," he muttered, staring up at the roof.

Could this be another reason he'd avoided sleeping with me for so long? Did he have some kind of condition? Did I even care?

"Say something, Bella."

"I don't know what to say. What you just did to me was wonderful. I loved it, but..."

"But what?"

"Did you know it was me?" I whispered.

"Bella, it's always you!"

"What do you mean?"

"Ever since I met you, I've dreamt of being with you and every morning I... I wake up with my hand in my pants."

Now we both had pink cheeks, but I wasn't entirely sure mine were caused by embarrassment alone.

"Have you ever done, um, _that_ to anyone else?"

"What? Molested them in my sleep?" He sounded defeated. "No, Bella, only you. You really have no idea how much you affect me."

"I think I'm beginning to." I leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You should listen to your subconscious mind, Edward. As far as I'm concerned, it's steering you in exactly the right direction."

He snorted and finally turned his head to look at me. "Thank you."

"Come on. I think you could do with a quick wash and some breakfast. Then I need a really long, hot shower. I'm not meeting your cousin until I look at least half decent."

...

Edward refused to pay for a guest pass, or endure a sales pitch in order to get a free pass at one of my fitness centres, so I left him to sort himself out in St Helens and headed for the gym in northeast Portland.

After a swim and a luxuriously hot shower, I went to find him in the nearby laundromat. As he'd already started his laundry, he offered to go and stock up on fresh food and water while I did mine.

I sat watching our clothes turning in adjacent machines, niggled by the similarity to my old Saturday routine. Short of cleaning my apartment, it felt identical and I didn't like it one bit.

Emmett's house was only a few blocks from the laundromat. There was a Jeep and a sports car sitting on his driveway, so we parked on the street in front of the house. A tall, muscular man emerged from the open garage as soon as we'd got out of our cars. He strode over to Edward and enveloped him in his big arms.

"Good to see you, Ed," he said, patting Edward on the back. "Is this your Bella?"

He turned to face me with his hand outstretched and, when I took it, pulled me into a bear hug of my own.

"Nice to meet you at last, Emmett."

"Come on," he said, nudging Edward. "Let's get your stuff unloaded."

I followed them both into the garage and looked around while they sorted the boxes.

It was very orderly inside with an entire wall covered in tools hung on pegboards. The shape of each item had been outlined in red paint so that you could see at a glance what was missing. Below the tools was a long, metal storage unit, which appeared to hold Emmett's painting and decorating equipment.

A large drafting table stood at the back of the garage with a couple of black portfolio cases propped up against it. To either side of that were stacks of neatly labelled cardboard boxes.

Emmett wandered toward a door at the side which connected to the house. "I'll just go and let Rosie know you're here. She'll get the coffee on."

"You kept your drafting table," I said, turning back to Edward.

"Yeah."

"Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes. It would be nice to spread out occasionally and work on a larger scale, but I do at least get to paint on walls, so I can't complain."

"What's in all the boxes?"

"Clothes, books, art materials."

"And that box there?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and pointing to a box with a very distinctive logo on the side.

"Um, that's a case of Marmite," he said begrudgingly.

"A case! You have a whole case and yet you fussed over one little jar!"

"I told you, my dad doesn't send it very often!"

I lifted a flap on the box and took out a jar. "This," I said, waving it in front of his face, "is mine!" I slid it into the net pocket on the side of my backpack.

"Eww, don't tell me you like that shit, Bella?" Emmett said, striding back into the garage.

A tall, curvaceous, blonde woman followed behind him. She glanced at Edward briefly, muttering his name in acknowledgment, then fixed her gaze on me. I might have considered her beautiful if it were not for the scowl on her face.

"Follow me," she said, going back into the house.

"Go ahead," Edward said. "We'll be in in a minute."

...

I took a seat at the kitchen table while Rosalie poured the coffee. She remained standing at the counter, cup in hand, glaring at me.

"You don't have a very high opinion of us, do you?" I said.

"I don't have a very high opinion of Edward - especially not right now."

"Why?"

"He has so much potential. He's an amazing designer, but he's wasting his time painting and decorating."

"How can you say that? His murals are works of art."

"He gave up very lucrative career. When he lost his job, he should have tried harder, or waited longer, to get another one. When I first met him he was so focussed, so driven and insanely talented - far too talented to be painting murals in kids' bedrooms. It's a waste."

I opened my mouth to defend him, but she hadn't finished.

"He gave up everything he'd ever worked for and now he's got you doing the same thing."

"This was my choice. Edward didn't even try to influence me."

"Would you be doing this if you hadn't met him?"

She had a point. I probably wouldn't have considered this particular option if I hadn't met him, but then I wouldn't have considered any other options either.

"In any case," she said, "this living in his car thing is just a phase. It won't last."

I bristled at her comment, not wanting to entertain even the tiniest possibility that Edward could be like my mother. She must have noticed my reaction, because she was watching me intently.

"He'll soon lose interest and move on to something new, just like he did with me."

"You dated him?" I asked, failing to mask my surprise.

"We dated for almost a year in college." She looked smug. "It's how I met Emmett."

Shit. That was long enough to be a serious relationship. He must have slept with her.

"Has he put out yet?" she asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You do know that man is still a virgin, don't you?" I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my grin. "He's saving himself for marriage. He won't have sex with you, if that's what you're hoping for. The man exudes sex appeal, but he never acts on it."

No wonder she could barely tolerate him. She was absolutely gorgeous, or would have been if she wasn't scowling all the time, and he hadn't had sex with her once in nearly a year of dating. I imagined that would have dented her ego somewhat. I'd have to ask him about it later.

The guys walked in and looked from me to Rosalie and back again.

"Bella and I should get going," Edward said.

Emmett's face fell. "Aren't you going to have lunch first? I made your favourite kebabs with halloumi cheese."

Rosalie turned to face the sink and rinsed her cup under the faucet. Edward's eyes kept darting between me and his cousin.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Em. Sorry."

"Rosie? What have you been saying to Bella?"

"He's ruining his life, Emmett," she said, staring at the sink, "and now he's ruining Bella's too."

"Isn't it time you got over this nonsense? If you'd only look at the photos of his work, Rosie, you'd see that's not true. And look at him. When have you ever seen him so happy? Bella is obviously good for him."

The shy smile spreading across Edward's face matched my own.

Rosalie sighed and turned to her boyfriend. "I can't change how I feel, Emmett. You three have lunch together. I'm going out." She walked out of the kitchen and, a few seconds later, we heard the front door slam shut and an engine roar to life outside.

Emmett scrubbed his hands over his face.

"Do you want to go after her, Em," Edward said.

"No, she needs to work this out for herself." He walked over to the refrigerator, opened the door and lifted out a huge tray of kebabs. "Come on. Let's get the grill on."

As the three of us cooked and ate lunch together, the earlier tension evaporated. Emmett was adorable, like a giant kid. There wasn't an unkind bone in his body and he was completely incapable of keeping his thoughts to himself. His affection for Edward was obvious and it was good to see Edward being silly with someone other than me.

When Edward told him I wasn't a vegetarian, he moaned for at least ten minutes, then promised he'd have some steaks ready for my next visit. Given Rosalie's frosty welcome, I wasn't sure how soon that would be.

We left Emmett's house late in the afternoon and I followed behind Edward with no idea where he might be taking us. As we crossed back over the river and turned right, I thought we might be heading back to St Helens, but a couple of minutes later he took a left turn into the forest. About a mile along the winding road, he indicated left again. I followed suit and slowed down, pulling into a small parking area beside him.


	11. Eleven

**Eleven**

We walked hand in hand, following the well worn path of a marked trail until we were surrounded by the dense greenery of the forest.

I was busy thinking what a fool I'd been, for having barely explored Portland in all the years I'd been living there, when Edward suddenly tugged me off to the side and into the undergrowth.

"It's this way," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"It's not far. We won't get lost."

"What's not - oh!"

He'd lead me into a small clearing that was completely encircled by trees, with a shaft of sunlight warming the lush green grass in the centre. It felt like a scene from a childhood fairytale: a secret, magical place, hidden deep in the forest, where woodland creatures held their celebrations.

I sat down with my legs outstretched and leaned back on my hands. I closed my eyes to feel the heat of the sun on my face and when I opened them again, Edward was sitting beside me, drinking from a water bottle.

"You didn't tell me you'd dated Rosalie," I said.

The water caught in his throat and he coughed into his fist. "What did she say?"

"That you dated her for about a year."

"And?"

"That you'll never put out, because you're a virgin waiting for marriage."

He lay back on the grass, scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

"I didn't once ask her on a date," he said quietly, "but she kept turning up at my apartment or my work station in college, asking me to go to this bar or that art gallery. She was good company back then. She smiled and laughed a lot and I liked her, but I didn't fancy her at all."

I lay down beside him and watched the treetops swaying gently in the breeze.

"She made a move on me more times than I can count, but I didn't want anything more than friendship, so I gave her the best excuse I could think of. She was undeterred. Actually, I think I became more of a challenge than ever.

"Emmett thought it was hysterical that I had this girl throwing herself at me. He told me to just "man up" and give her what she wanted. Eventually, he decided he had to see her for himself. Of course, they hit it off straight away, but she became resentful towards me."

"But why, if she had Emmett?" I asked, turning my head to look at him.

He rolled onto his side and propped himself up, his face close to mine.

"I think I was the only man who had ever refused her - not just once, but repeatedly."

"Yeah, I can kind of sympathise with her on that one." My laughter was tinged with frustration.

"Bella, the way I feel about you is the exact opposite of how I felt about her."

As he leaned in to kiss me, I tugged at his shoulder until he rolled on top of me, his legs between mine. When his tongue entered my mouth, I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and asked, "May I touch you?"

I burst out laughing. "You're asking now? You didn't ask last Sunday in my car."

"I did!" He fluttered his eyelashes at me. "I asked with my eyes."

"Or this morning in your car." I smirked and his eyes narrowed.

He wriggled a hand under the hem of my top, tickling his way up my torso to touch my breast. I giggled at first and then gasped as he worked his fingers under the fabric of my bra.

Sneaking my own hand between us and under his T-shirt, I delighted in the feel of the soft hair low on his abdomen.

He groaned. "Bella, I want you, really I do, but I don't have any protection."

"You are kidding me, right?"

He shook his head.

"Is that really all that's stopping you?"

"Yes."

I reached a hand out to unzip the front pocket of my backpack and retrieved a foil package.

"Prove it," I said, waving it in his face. "Prove you want me."

Before he had a chance to think of another excuse, I slid my other hand back down his abdomen and inside his jeans, finding only bare skin. I took a firm hold of his cock and his face contorted.

"Oh fuck, Bella!"

"Where are your underpants, Edward?" I said, sniggering.

"Ah, laundry, oh, Bella!"

I released him and tugged at his T-shirt with both hands. I was so determined to get us undressed before he changed his mind that I rushed a moment I would otherwise have chosen to savour.

In a couple of minutes we were both naked. The grass tickled my body, adding a curious level of excitement to the moment. I opened the condom wrapper and Edward raised himself up, allowing me to rolI it on for him.

As he lowered his hips between my thighs, he looked into my eyes with such an intensity I was captivated, just as I had been when our eyes first met in the secondhand bookstore.

"I'm not holding back anymore, Bella," he whispered, slowly pushing himself inside me.

"Finally!" I shouted to the treetops.

His eyes sparkled and his lips twitched, but then he began to move and his expression became more serious.

I'd been in love with this man for weeks, but did he love me? It looked like it. It felt like it. I was certain this wasn't going to be just sex for either of us.

His movements were slow and deliberate as he caressed my body with his cock, his lips and his hands. In return, I stroked the backs of his legs with my feet, ran my fingers through the hair on his chest and then brushed my hands down his back to grab hold of his fabulous ass.

He groaned into my neck and picked up his pace, causing me to shriek with excitement when he changed the angle of his hips.

"Can you come like this," he whispered. "Do you need..."

I eased a hand between us, but had barely begun to touch myself when I became insensible with the rush of my orgasm. Edward's body stiffened and shuddered and he collapsed on top of me.

My heart was racing and so was my mind.

"What are you thinking about, Bella?" His words were muffled against my skin.

"Um, a couple of things..."

He pushed up on his forearms. "Tell me."

"I can't believe we just... made love outside on the grass."

"Do you care?"

"No, but I'll probably feel embarrassed about it later."

"And?"

And I love you, I thought, but I'm too much of a wimp to tell you.

"You were right," I said.

"What?"

"You know exactly what to do with your equipment. You're not out of practice at all."

"On the contrary, Bella, I think I need all the practice I can get." He winked and rolled swiftly to one side. Sitting up with his back to me, he removed the condom and reached for his clothes and shoes.

"How many condoms do you have?" he said, looking over his shoulder.

"Thirty-five."

He smirked. "Come on," he said, standing up and throwing my clothes at me. "I want to have you in my car and it's your turn on top."

He picked up our bags, slung them over his shoulder and started walking toward the edge of the clearing.

"Now you're in a hurry!" I muttered, pulling on my top, panties and shorts. I shoved my bare feet into my sneakers and, with my bra and socks in my hand, chased after him.

...

I woke up with something wet between my legs and had a brief moment of panic before remembering that we'd used a condom every single time. I had a small pouch of sanitary supplies and some spare panties in my backpack, so I sat up carefully, pulled on my dirty clothes, grabbed my bag and crept out of the side door.

The cool, early morning air hit my arms and legs and I shivered. Looking around me, I could see nothing but greenery. Dammit!

"Edward!" I reached in and shook him by the shoulder.

"Hmmm?"

"Edward! I need a restroom."

"Go behind a bush," he said curtly, covering his head with the blanket.

"Ugh!" I was going to have to spell it out for him. "Edward, I'm bleeding!"

That got his attention. He sat bolt upright, the blanket dropping to his lap to reveal his bare chest. "Bleeding? Shit, Bella, did I hurt you?"

"No, you idiot, my period has started. What am I going to do?"

"There's restroom along one of the nearby trails, but it's at least a twenty minute walk away. I suppose it might be easier to drive back into the city."

Neither choice was a quick solution. I stood there weighing my options while my fingers itched to play with the hair on his chest.

"Could you reorganise the trunks and check my phone for the nearest fitness centre?" I asked, reluctantly backing toward the forest.

Just a few yards along the trail, I hid behind some trees and rummaged in my backpack for my pouch, spare panties, tissues and hand wipes. I laid everything out on the ground and stripped off, doing the best I could to stem the tide and clean myself up until I got back to civilisation.

As I packed my things to go back to the car, I thought about the night I'd just had with Edward. If my period had started just a few hours earlier, we wouldn't have made love once, let alone three times.

...

We spent the next three nights camped out in fitness centre parking lots so I could have immediate access to their facilities. Once I'd worked out that the staff were not in attendance overnight, I was able to sneak Edward in with me for a hot shower and a shave. It certainly took the sting out of having to sleep in separate cars again.

The police tend to check on vehicles in public parking lots at night and, although those parked beside a twenty-four hour business would be of less concern to them, Edward felt our sleeping arrangements would be more obvious to anyone looking in if we were together.

Even without any police attention, we were still disturbed. Cars came and went all through the night and then there were the sirens ringing out in the city. Coupled with my occasional need to dash to the restrooms, I didn't get much sleep at all.

I continued to work in coffee shops, bookstores and public libraries - anywhere that offered free wifi - but stopped following such a set routine. It suited me far better to write for myself during the daytime while I was fresher, so I began to save the work tasks that could be dealt with offline for the evening.

Edward seemed happy to be left to his own devices and disappeared for hours at a time, but somehow he always knew where to find me. I wondered if I had a tracking device somewhere on my person.

We passed the evenings together in various parks, eating dinner, working and drawing, until the light began to fade.

At night, I wished we could have the privacy we'd had in St Helens, when we'd sat facing each other with our tailgates up, but that just wasn't feasible here. I began to understand why Edward preferred to be somewhere smaller and less populated.

...

On Friday morning, Edward found me sitting in the laundromat, editing a report for my boss.

He sat down and leaned in to rub his nose across my cheek. "How long are you going to be?"

"I'm nearly finished, I think," I said, glancing first at my iPad and then at the dryer. "I'll be done by midday."

"Would you like to go on a mystery tour with me?"

"What do you think?" I said, turning my head to kiss him.


	12. Twelve

**Twelve**

For the first time in months, I sat in the passenger seat of Edward's Volvo as he drove us out of Portland. Emmett and Rosalie were out of town, so we'd left my Chevy locked up in their garage.

After about an hour on the road, heading south and then west, we turned off the highway. A few minutes later, Edward pulled in beside an old, wrought iron cemetery gate.

Once we'd climbed the hill and begun to wander among the headstones, he put his arm around me and lowered his voice to speak.

"Local legend has it that a witch was hanged in the town and buried here. Her ghost has haunted the cemetery ever since, chasing away many a visitor who overstayed their welcome. Some have been left with scars running down their backs - proof, they say, that she scratched them with her sharp talons as they fled in terror. Prior to her hanging, she was said to have cursed the town to be burned to the ground three times - a fate the town has indeed suffered twice already."

I couldn't help but shiver, but it may have just been the effect of his deep voice and the close proximity of his lips to my ear.

We sat down on the grass to one side of the graveyard, me sitting between his legs. I leaned my back against his chest as he continued to murmur in my ear.

"Researchers have uncovered a different story about the curse. It wasn't a woman that was hung but a man, for the brutal and bloody murder of a shopkeeper, with an axe. His was the last ever hanging in the area and a gruesome affair, by all accounts. It took eighteen long minutes for the man to die.

"His mother was thought to be a gypsy and she did indeed curse the town, but she later moved away and lived a long life. She wasn't buried in this cemetery."

"So who is the ghost that causes physical harm to visitors?" I said, turning to look at Edward with my eyebrows raised.

I would like to have said I was unaffected by the stories, and the deathly quiet of our surroundings, but no sooner had that question left my mouth than I felt compelled to leave. If Edward wanted to do any drawing, it would be have to be from memory.

...

We continued heading west, then followed the coastline south to a campsite set in the forest. Edward produced a small tent pack and we set it up with our mattresses inside.

"Come on," he said, grabbing my hand and dragging me back to the car. "I want to show you something."

He drove us a short distance further south and parked in a lot above a beach. We followed a trail along the cliffs and past a pretty house to a lighthouse, where we were given a tour all the way to the top.

On our way back to the car, Edward told me about The Gray Lady and listed off a catalogue of ghostly appearances and happenings that had been experienced by workmen at the pretty house, which now served as a bed and breakfast.

We strolled along the beach for a while then drove back to the campsite to cook dinner. Sleeping in a tent was strange after so many nights in a car. Edward held me in his arms, kissing my face and lips, caressing my hair and stroking my back until we fell asleep.

After a shower and a breakfast of oatmeal, freshly cooked on Edward's stove, we packed up and returned to the parking lot by the lighthouse. Edward made several drawings while I wrote in a notebook.

I tried to capture the essence of the place, but with the sea calm and the sun shining, it just didn't seem that dramatic. I imagined how it might look in fall or winter, with the waves crashing against the cliffs and the wind driving the rain, or the buildings shrouded in a thick mist.

I wondered who The Gray Lady might have been when she was alive. An infant had been buried in the grounds of the house, so it was thought her ghost was searching for her dead child. But how had the woman died? Had she jumped to her death to escape her loss or died naturally after years in mourning?

When I heard Edward's stomach rumble, I volunteered to fetch us some lunch from the car while he finished his drawing. An hour later, we set off again, following the coastal road a little further before turning inland to the south.

...

I covered my mouth to contain my excitement when I first saw the name on a road sign and was bouncing in my seat when Edward pulled into the parking lot of the Wolf Creek Inn.

"I booked us a room," he said, getting out of the car.

"You did?" I was genuinely surprised by that. I'd expected another campsite, given his aversion to spending money on anything but necessities.

"Yes. We were both fascinated by the story and, well..."

"What?"

"I wanted to do something special with you."

"Oh, Edward, I've loved everything we've done together. All of it is special."

"Oh," he said, looking down at his shoes. "In that case, you won't mind if we cancel the room and stay at the campsite down the road, then. It's a bit rustic, but it does have vault toilets."

I stood there with my mouth open until I saw his shoulders shaking.

"Are you teasing me, Edward Cullen?"

"You should have seen your face," he said, laughing loudly.

"So we are staying here?"

He stepped forward and enveloped me in his arms. "Of course we're staying here, but thank you for saying everything we've done together is special. It means the world to me."

"I'll be asking the innkeeper for a room with twin beds," I said, nipping his neck with my teeth.

He groaned. "Please don't, Bella. I promise I'll make it up to you."

The innkeeper gave us a tour of the inn, relaying its history and telling us about the famous people who'd stayed in each room. Every room was beautifully laid out with period furniture and the beds were all covered with patchwork quilts. It was like stepping back in time. He saved the largest room until last then wished us a good night and left.

"This is our room?" I asked Edward.

"Yes." he said, his face beaming with pride. "When I emailed him Friday morning to enquire about the tour, he'd just had a cancellation. He offered me a discount and I couldn't refuse. I really had intended for us to stay at the campsite down the road."

We freshened up in the bathroom then decided to go out for a walk. Taking as many of our perishable food items as we could for a picnic dinner, we ventured into the woods behind the inn.

At twilight, we returned to the inn and went up to our room. We showered together and, without bothering to put on any night clothes, climbed onto the antique bed and pulled up the covers.

"Do you think we'll see any ghosts?" I said, rubbing his chest.

"Do you want to?"

"A part of me would like to meet our vampire, but then again..."

"Yeah, I'm not sure I want to get bitten."

"What makes you think he'd want to bite you? I'm much tastier."

"Yes, you are," he said, licking his lips.

He turned his face into his pillow, slowly drawing his arm out from underneath it, and then, in a move that might have been slick had he been wearing pants and had the bed not creaked, he pounced on me, straddling my body on all fours.

Seeing his bits jiggling about made me giggle and that quickly turned to hysterical laughter when he drew back his lips to reveal some novelty vampire teeth.

"Is-a-bell-a," he said, lowering his face to mine. "I vont to drink your blood."

Tears were running down my face as he put his mouth to my neck.

"You've been planning this little joke for a while, haven't you?" I said through my laughter.

"Yep," he said, taking out the fake fangs and putting them on the night stand. He pushed up on all fours again and grinned at me. "Did you like it?"

"It was very funny, but I think I prefer your real smile."

I reached up to touch his face and drew him back down to kiss me. The bed creaked loudly, but that didn't stop us from running our hands all over each other. He put his mouth on my neck again, this time licking and sucking at my skin, causing me to writhe beneath him and beg for more.

He reached for a condom and in moments he was inside me, giving me what I'd begged for, but with every thrust, the creaking got worse.

"Shit! Perhaps we should try this with you on top," Edward said, rolling us over onto his side of the bed.

I moved excruciatingly slowly, doing my utmost not to cause even the tiniest creak, but every time either of us began to get more excited, we had to slow down again.

"Sod it!" Edward said through clenched teeth. He sat up, pulling my arms and legs around him, and turned to get off the bed. In three quick strides, he had me pressed up against an exterior wall.

" _This_ is what I wanted to do with you the day I came home," he murmured in my ear, thrusting his hips rhythmically. " _This_ I how much I want you all the time."

"Me too," I whispered, pressing my mouth to his neck and teasing him with my teeth and tongue.

"Oh, fuck! Can you...? I'm..."

"I'm there!" A surge of searing heat coursed through my body as Edward's grip on me tightened, his head falling heavily onto my shoulder.

We slumped down in a heap on the floor.

"Thank you for my magical mystery tour," I whispered.

He brushed his fingertips across my cheek. "You're welcome. Thank you for coming with me."

...

I woke with a start, reaching out frantically for Edward.

"What was that?" I whispered urgently into the darkness. When Edward didn't stir, I lay frozen in place on full alert.

A scraping sound was coming from the attic above, as if something was being dragged across the floorboards. When the noise abruptly stopped, I forced myself to turn my head to the left, watching in horror as a dark figure emerged from the shadows and stepped into the moonlight. I opened my mouth to scream and -

"Bella!"

I sat up with a start, my heart pounding and my body hot and clammy.

"You're okay. It was just a dream."

"It was here." I was shivering now.

"What was?"

"The vampire. I saw it over there by the dresser."

"You were dreaming, Bella, I promise."

As I lay back down in his arms, he yawned, opening his mouth wide to display his long, pointed canines.

"Edward, would you please take off those bloody fangs!"

...

After a leisurely breakfast of pancakes with bacon for me and German pancakes with fruit filling for Edward, we left Wolf Creek and took the Interstate north toward Portland.

For the first hour or so, I kept one eye on the wing mirror to be sure were weren't being followed.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I will be posting my own Wolf Creek ghost story over Christmas. If you don't have me an author alert, look out for it on my profile.


	13. Thirteen

**Thirteen**

First thing Monday morning, I visited my old university library and spent a few hours reading through its vast collection of literary magazines, taking notes on the most suitable publications, their submission requirements, and their terms.

Before I left to get lunch, I wrote and posted my blog entries for our weekend away and, within an hour, I received my first comment from Edward's mom, Esme.

She asked if we could arrange a Skype date for the following day, but, with an eight hour time difference, it wasn't easy. We messaged back and forth until we'd settled on two o'clock in the afternoon for Edward and me. It would be late at night for Esme and Carlisle, but I didn't think it would be possible for us to hold a conversation during the lunch rush.

I'd decided to surprise Edward, asking him to meet me a little after two, so I had already introduced myself by the time he arrived. When he realised what was going on, his smile lit up the room and he grabbed hold of my hand and rested it on his thigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his other hand inching across the table toward the iPad screen and the image of his parents.

"So, Bella," Carlisle said, "I see from your blog you've passed the test."

Edward paled beside me, covering his face with his hands. "Dad, no!"

"Now, son, you and I both know how rare it is to find an American girl who likes Marmite and it would appear that your Bella loves it." He raised an eyebrow at Edward, then focussed his attention on me. "Welcome to the family, Bella. You can call me Dad."

Esme was laughing beside him as he lifted a cardboard box into view.

"We'll send this off in the morning, son. Perhaps with a bigger supply, you'll remember how to share."

The four of us talked until Edward's parents started yawning. It didn't escape my notice that Esme looked longingly at her son as she said goodbye, her hand venturing toward the screen just as his had done earlier.

...

By Wednesday morning, I had three stories prepared for possible publication. I submitted one by email and printed out the other two at the public library, mailing each to a different magazine.

I desperately wanted to tell someone other than Edward, so I called my dad and then Alice. Dad was really happy for me, but then reduced me tears when he told me how much he missed me and how he hoped I'd come home to see him soon.

Alice, who had finally crossed the border into Texas the week before, was obviously hoping for an uncensored account of the past two weeks with Edward.

"Come on, Bella, it's time to fill in all the gaps in your blog. I've seen the photos - that man is gorgeous. Have you slept together yet?"

"Oh yes, quite a few times."

"Really? Was it good?"

"I guess. I was asleep at the time."

"You know what I mean. Have you had sex with the man?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't just sex, it was more - at least it was for me."

"Have you told him how you feel?"

"No, not yet and he hasn't..."

Suddenly I recalled his quip about asking with his eyes. Was that what he'd been doing all along, expressing his feelings in every other way but words? When I thought of everything we'd done in the past week and a half, I realised that might well be true.

And he had said how he felt, many times, just not using the three words I was hoping for. I could hardly blame him for not saying out loud something I was equally scared to admit to him. Maybe he was waiting for me.

"Bella? Are you still there?"

"Yes, sorry, I was thinking. Um, have you found yourself a cowboy yet?"

"Ugh! I've been in Dallas for eight days already and met a bunch of them, but not one has been right for me. I don't know. I thought I'd be spoiled for choice here. When I find him, I'm going to tell him off for keeping me waiting."

I laughed, imagining the petite woman pictured on Alice's blog profile scolding a tall Texan in cowboy boots and a Ten Gallon hat. "You can't tell him off when you're the one that's new to Texas."

"I suppose not." She sighed. "How's the writing going?

"Slowly. I submitted my first three completed stories today."

"Congratulations! Can I read them?"

"I'll email you the links to my files."

"You know, you should post a story online too and give people a taste of what you do. With enough feedback, you might even get noticed by a publisher."

"That isn't a bad idea, but where?"

"On your blog, silly. It's about time you made it public. I've really enjoyed following it so far, especially this past weekend."

"I suppose. I wish I had your photographic skills though, Alice. Your blog is as much a visual treat as it is a good read. I found some of your images really inspiring."

"You did? Ooh! Why don't you write a short story using one of my photos? I could link to it on my blog. You'd get a ton of hits from my followers."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! We're friends."

"But we've never even met."

"But we will, Bella, we will."

"I'm not getting any younger here, Alice. You're what - 2,000 odd miles away?"

"Something like that. It is taking longer than I thought, but then everywhere I go I find something amazing to see and I don't want to rush it. You should try traveling a little. Perhaps if you head toward me, we could meet somewhere in the middle."

"Maybe."

...

I was sitting in a coffee shop on Friday afternoon when Edward came and sat beside me, setting his sketchbook down on the table.

"Do I smell or something?" I said, pointing my nose down to my armpit and sniffing.

"What?"

"How is it you always know exactly where to find me?"

All the colour drained from his face for a second, then, as it returned, his cheeks flushed pink.

"Er..." His eyes flitted briefly to his sketchbook then back to me and he swallowed hard.

"Pass me that sketchbook, Edward!"

With obvious reluctance, he slid it across the table. I flipped through it until I came to a blank page and then worked backward. The first few pages were full of sketches of me, sitting at the very same table I was at now. Next came a detailed drawing of me asleep with a blanket draped over my body, then me in the library, at another coffee shop, sitting in a park reading while I waited for Edward - page after page after page was filled with pictures of me.

"Edward?"

"I had nothing else to do," he said, looking down at the table.

"You've been stalking me for how long exactly?"

"The past two weeks," he whispered, "but I wasn't stalking you, I just -"

"You found me every day in St Helens, too. Did you even go to Scappoose?"

"Yes, of course I did. St Helens was easy. You could only be in one of three places."

"I don't know whether to be upset or flattered."

"Please don't be upset," he said, taking my hand.

"You've made me look beautiful," I whispered.

"I only draw what I see, Bella."

I stared at him and he stared right back, unflinching, serious... gorgeous. If I had nothing else to do, I could get lost watching him all day. I'd probably even write him into every story...

I broke the moment and looked down at the story I'd been working on. There in black letters was a description of a character with green eyes and bronze-coloured hair. I packed away quickly, letting my hair fall over my face to hide my hot cheeks.

"Where were you sitting?" I asked as we stood to leave.

"Over there." He pointed to a table in the farthest corner of the shop.

"Hmpf. How could I not have noticed you?"

"I wondered that too. You're exceptionally unobservant, Bella. Ouch!"

...

We decided to escape the city again for the weekend and drove out to the Tillamook Forest, making a slight detour to buy some bread from Volturi's Bakery.

Old Mr Volturi came out from behind the counter and, holding my hand in both of his, looked at me thoughtfully. "Ah, Isabella," he said. "You look more radiant than I have ever seen you. Being in love suits you."

I blushed profusely and fumbled in my purse for my wallet, not daring to look in Edward's direction.

Later, once we'd parked at the edge of the forest, we foraged for Lamb's Quarters. The leaves tasted a little like spinach and I thought we could cook them with some eggs, but Edward wanted to put them in a Marmite sandwich. At his insistence, I tried a bite. He didn't get it back.

After lunch, we wandered along one of the forest trails, gathering blackberries and wild strawberries in plastic containers, until we came across a fallen tree just yards from the path and sat down.

"I miss this," he said, fiddling with a fern frond.

"What, the forest?"

"The forest, the clean air, the tranquility."

"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't stay in Portland, would you?"

"Probably not, but tell me, if I hadn't come back in time, what would you have done?"

"Pretty much what I've been doing the past two weeks, I guess, at least for a while."

"Well, there you have it then. You're still new to this life and it takes some time to adjust. It makes sense that you'd need the familiarity and conveniences of city life, particularly while you work your notice."

He got up and crouched down in front of me, taking my hands in his and looking into my eyes.

"I want to be where you are, Bella. I meant what I said that last day in your apartment."

"But you don't have -"

He pressed his lips to mine briefly and shook his head. "When I first started living in my car, I was like you are now. I had a couple of months left on my gym membership, so I stayed in the city and used the facilities every day."

"Why didn't you renew it?"

"Money, mainly. Without an income, I had to learn to be thrifty. Why pay for something you can get for free?"

"But you have an income now. Why not make life easier for yourself?"

"My life isn't that hard. In any case, I'm saving."

"For what?"

"For a time when I either can't or don't want to live in my car anymore."

He stood up, pulling me with him and gathering our things. As we retraced our steps back along the trail to our cars, I was lost in thought again.

I hadn't really considered the future much beyond following my dream to be a writer, but then before I met Edward, I hadn't thought much about anything other than making it through each week.


	14. Fourteen

**Fourteen**

"I don't know what I'm doing," I whispered, running my fingers through the hair on his chest.

He had been idly stroking his hand up and down my arm, but now it was still.

"How do you mean?" he said, his voice rough.

"What if things don't work out?"

"Things?" His arm dropped heavily onto the mattress behind me.

"I thought I knew what I was doing, but now I'm not so sure."

The car rocked as he turned quickly onto his side to face me, trapping my hands between us, my palms flat against his chest. He brushed a finger down the side of my face and frowned, looking into my eyes intently as if he were trying to read my mind.

Eventually, his face relaxed, but his eyes never left mine.

"Try to take it a day at a time, Bella," he said. "That's what I learned to do. It took time for me to find my feet in this life, to find out what made me truly happy. The work I do with Emmett is a means to an end. It isn't what I want to do for the rest of my life, but it is at least something I can enjoy doing and while I'm living in my car, my expenses are low and I can save money."

"To what end, though?"

"Do you think we can live like this forever?"

"No, of course not, but what if I can't make this work? What if I run out of money?"

"Once you've finished working your notice, you'll have more time to think. You can try out new things, maybe find other ways to earn money while you establish your writing career. And whatever happens, you'll still have me."

There wasn't even a hint of humour in that last statement. He was serious. I could see it in his eyes and feel it in the touch of his fingertips on my cheek.

"Would you let me move into your car?" I whispered, sliding my hand over his heart.

"Yes, Bella," he whispered back.

Brushing his fingers down my neck, he brought them to rest over my heart, mirroring mine over his, then drew shapes on my skin with his index finger, sending shivers through my body.

"Tell me," he said suddenly, "were you happy in your old life?"

"You know I wasn't."

"And now?"

"More than I have ever been."

"Could you be happy writing if the only people to enjoy the result were me, your dad and Alice?"

Could I be? I didn't know.

"Are you happy drawing, when only I get to see your sketchbooks?" I asked.

"Yours is the only opinion that matters as much as my own."

My throat tightened and I blinked back the tears that were forming in my eyes. His eyes searched mine once more, but I had no idea what he was expecting to find.

"You know," he said, "very few people get to make a living out of their passion and for those that do, the job often takes all the joy out of it anyway." He raised an eyebrow, knowing I had some understanding of that. "Money, and how we earn it, is not the only measure of success in life. My mom always says that she'll have made a success of her life if I am happy in mine."

"I bet she wasn't so sure of that when you took on this lifestyle, though, was she?"

"I think she's changed her mind since Tuesday, " he said, rolling me onto my back and settling himself on top of me. The car rocked again.

"She has?"

"Yes. I got an email from her saying she's never seen me look so well or so happy and to keep doing whatever it is I'm doing."

"And what might that be?"

"You."

He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, kissing away all my worries. For the rest of the night, we tested the suspension on my car - thoroughly.

...

The next three weeks passed by in a flurry of work. With new staff arriving at my old office, my workload was gradually shifting more toward proofreading and mentoring, with only the occasional piece of writing.

Emmett had several new jobs lined up and needed Edward's help to meet the deadlines. Sadly, none of the work required Edward's creativity.

The longest job was at a house some way out of the city, but I decided not to go with him. I needed to try being on my own for a while, to reassure myself that I could do what I'd set out to do before Edward came back and prove that I didn't need someone to hold my hand.

I wanted to try some different parking spots, suggestions from blogs I'd read when I first researched living in my car. I was surprised when Edward just smiled and agreed without protest, suggesting a time and place to meet up later in the week.

Just after dark on the first night, I parked in a quiet residential street on the outskirts of the city, directly under a street lamp. Thieves were supposedly less likely to test the door handles of a well lit car.

I prepared my breakfast, then sat and wrote on my iPad for a little while before laying down under my blanket. With the light hitting my car roof, rather than shining in directly through a window, I should have found it easy enough to get some sleep, but I didn't. I felt very conspicuous and worried that someone would notice the car rocking whenever I moved.

I lay motionless, dozing on and off, all night long.

Had I been asleep, I wouldn't have been disturbed until people started to get in their cars for work, early the next morning. I discreetly climbed into my front seat and drove to the nearest fitness centre, taking a yoga class and a hot shower to ease the stiffness in my limbs.

On the second night, I stopped in the parking lot of a sporting goods store in southeast Portland, and, sure enough, I was woken from a deep sleep, in the middle of the night, by a police officer. I lied through my teeth and explained that I was travelling around the state, but didn't have enough money to stay in hotels. He was kinder than those I'd read about online, instructing me to drive a few blocks south to a WalMart and make sure to ask the store manager for permission to stay in the lot. I suspected he would follow and check up on me, so I took his advice, buying something to drink from the store before seeking out the manager.

In the morning, I used the store's restrooms to freshen up and bought some fresh fruit to have with my oatmeal. I ate breakfast in my car then drove to a different part of the city to start my day's work.

Having crossed Walmart off my list, I spent the next couple of nights in my favoured fitness centre parking lots. I slept much better, despite the usual disturbances, but that may have been due to sheer exhaustion and the hour long swims I took before bedding down.

On his return, Edward was desperate to drive somewhere remote and reconnect with me for a couple of days, before he had to start work again. Other than that brief respite, we had much less time together than in my first three weeks of living in my car.

...

While I was busy experimenting with different nightspots, Alice had left Dallas and headed to the Texas state capitol, Austin. Her blog was full of images of the city and her studies of reflections in the lakes were simply stunning, but it was a very different type of picture that caught my imagination.

The image showed a couple dressed in period costume. The man was tall and slim and wore military clothing from the Civil War era. He had his arm wrapped around the waist of the woman, who was easily a foot or more shorter than him and petite like Alice. Both had long, white blond hair and if it were not for their tanned skin, I'd have imagined them to be ghosts or some other kind of supernatural creature.

Alice referred several times to the friends she'd made in the city and I wondered if it was this unusual looking couple.

...

The late August days were beginning to get shorter, the nights cooler and the weather less settled. Edward and I slowly adjusted our sleep pattern and slept in more layers of clothing, even when we were lucky enough to be sleeping in the same car.

When my period started, we resumed the fitness centre parking lot routine, with me making the odd dash through the rain, late at night or early in the morning. With damp hair and clothes drying in my car, I started to appreciate that this lifestyle had some drawbacks.

...

After three weeks of physical hard work, Edward was desperate to get out of the city, so we left his Volvo outside Emmett's house and he sat in my passenger seat for the four and a half hour drive to Forks to visit my dad.

He slept for most of the journey, only waking when I turned off the highway and slowed down to drive through the residential area that I knew like the back of my hand.

The sun was setting as I turned into my dad's driveway, but I could clearly see him waiting on the porch. In an uncharacteristic move, he jogged down the steps, opened my car door and hauled me out of my seat and into his arms. I squeezed him tightly around his waist, enjoying the welcome.

"Good to have you home, Bella," he said, leaning back to look over my face.

Edward got out and came around the front of the car to join us. Keeping his left arm wrapped tightly around me, my dad offered up his right hand. "You must be Edward. I'm Bella's dad, Charlie."

"Good to meet you, Charlie," Edward replied, looking completely at ease as he shook hands with my dad.

We gathered our bags from the car and went inside, leaving them at the bottom of the stairs.

"Pizza's are on their way," Dad said, leading us into the kitchen.

"You've ordered already?" I asked.

"Yep."

"Dad, how did you know when we'd get here?" He looked a little uncomfortable and his cheeks were tinged pink. "You didn't have one of the guys stake out the county line, did you?"

"No!" His cheeks were red now and he was getting flustered. I was onto him.

Putting put my hands on my hips, I made a supreme effort to keep a straight face so that I could glare at him convincingly. It didn't help that Edward was sniggering beside me.

"Charlie Swan, did you put a police tracking device in my car?"

He huffed and mumbled, "How else is your old man supposed to sleep at night?"

"Well," I said, waving my hand back and forth between both men, "you two should get along just fine."

At that moment there was a knock at the door. My dad pulled out his wallet and escaped to pay for the pizza.

He came back with three boxes and set them on the table. I was pleased to see he'd remembered that Edward was a vegetarian - and that I wasn't. He hovered by the refrigerator, while Edward and I sat down.

"Beer?" he asked.

"No thanks, Charlie, water for me please," Edward replied.

"Bella?"

"Neither of us drink alcohol anymore, Dad. It's not a good idea when you live like we do, for a number of reasons."

"Good! Pleased to hear it, but you're not sleeping in your car tonight, are you? So, beer?" he said again, offering a bottle to Edward.

Edward shook his head.

"You go ahead Dad," I said, getting up to fetch us some water. "Just pretend we're under age or something if it makes you more comfortable."

"In that case," he said, pointing at Edward, "you're sleeping on the couch!"


	15. Fifteen

**Fifteen**

Edward didn't sleep on my dad's couch, but I still woke up alone in my bed the next morning.

I could hear voices coming from downstairs, so I pulled on my jeans and hoodie and crept out onto the landing to listen to Edward and my dad, chatting away as they worked together in the kitchen. When the smell of bacon got the better of me, I hurried down to join them.

After breakfast, we took Edward around the town and then to the diner for lunch. With Edward beside me and my dad sitting opposite, I was on my guard until I'd eaten all my fries.

We picked up some groceries for an evening meal on the way home, then spent the afternoon sitting in the garden, reminiscing over old photograph albums. To distract my dad from telling some of my more embarrassing childhood stories, I showed him the drawings in Edward's sketchbook that had inspired my writing.

Early on Sunday morning, Dad took Edward to one of his favourite river fishing spots for a few hours. While Dad was fishing, Edward kept him company and admired the scenery, drawing in his sketchbook. It wasn't exactly the best time of year for a good catch, but my dad had always enjoyed the peace and the simple rhythm of the activity. Catching a fish was a bonus.

Before leaving, Dad had placed two large, white envelopes on the kitchen table for me. I recognised both postmarks, so I made myself a strong, black coffee and sat down to open them with shaky hands.

Each envelope contained a rejected story and a covering letter. One editor was kind enough to suggest how I might make any future submissions more suitable for his magazine, the other did not.

My chest felt tight when I realised that my dad had held on to the mail and only given it to me when I had the time and space to open it without an audience. I allowed myself to cry out my disappointment then went upstairs for a shower, but, try as I might, I couldn't wash away the feeling of failure.

I was making some salad for lunch when Dad and Edward returned. Dad had caught a reasonable sized steelhead, which he proceeded to gut and fillet while Edward dragged me out of the back door and into the forest.

At first, I thought he was upset and wondered what my dad could possibly have said to him. Then, I briefly entertained a fantasy that he was so desperate for me, he wanted to take me up against a tree - something I would have welcomed, given the recent lack of opportunities to have sex.

No such luck! Edward was on the hunt for chanterelle mushrooms and when he found some, I had to run back to the house to fetch my mother's old gathering basket.

After lunch, we left Dad at home cleaning his rods and reels and went for a walk. As Edward talked about his morning by the river, it sounded as if he had fallen in love with Forks. He was certainly quite envious of the forest being right outside our back door - something my dad and I had always taken for granted.

Dad had an early shift on Monday, so we stayed one more night, getting up to leave at the same time as him. Before hugging me goodbye, he handed me a small, blue envelope. I leaned in and whispered in his ear about my rejection letters. He squeezed me tightly and told me not to give up, reached out to shake Edward's hand and stood back to wave us off.

...

Back in Portland, Edward had a couple of small jobs to do with Emmett. I went to work in the public library and so was alone when I picked up the email from the third magazine. It was another rejection and this time I had to swallow my disappointment in silence.

That week, the emails from the office were less frequent and the work less taxing, but I didn't feel like doing much in the way of story writing. Instead, I caught up with my blog updates and checked on Alice's progress. She was now in San Antonio and would be heading to Houston the following weekend.

On Friday afternoon, my boss called to tell me that she was unlikely to be sending me anything more for remainder of my notice period, but to remain on standby. She also reminded me that I would need to come into the office on my final day to sign paperwork.

Edward was free for the next few days, so we got our laundry done, went grocery shopping and drove north out of the city. We spent the night at the trailhead in the forest where we'd first made love and the next day on the trail, looking for our little clearing.

It was a cool, cloudy day and the damp grass didn't look quite so green anymore. It had none of the magic of our first visit.

As we stood holding each other in the middle of the clearing, I finally opened up and told Edward about my failure to publish my stories.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his arms tightening around me.

I pressed my cheek against his chest. "I was hoping the third one would come back with a yes. I would have told you then, but..."

"Oh, Bella." He loosened his hold on me and lifted my chin so I had no choice but to look at him. "You're not to give up, not even when you think you've exhausted all possibilities. I'll keep drawing and you'll keep writing, no matter what, okay?"

I nodded and he kissed me and, for that brief moment, the clearing regained some of its magic.

...

A couple of days later, we were sat facing each other, with our tailgates up, at one of our old parking spots in St Helens.

There was a fine drizzle in the air, but we were both intent on making the most of the fading daylight. I was writing a piece for my blog and Edward was drawing on a single sheet of paper, that he'd rested on top of a sketchbook. He had a tin of coloured pencils at his side and every time he reached out to change colour, the movement caught my eye and I looked up to watch him.

I was just uploading my blog entry when my phone buzzed with an incoming call.

"Hello Esme," I said.

"Bella? Is that you?" Her voice sounded strained.

"Yes, Esme. Is everything okay?"

"Is Edward with you?"

"Yes he is. I'll put him on."

Edward, who had been watching me from the moment I'd answered the call, got up instantly to take the phone from my outstretched hand.

"Mom?"

There was a pause, during which his mother must have been speaking, then, "Oh, no!"

He turned away from me and began frantically pulling at his hair with his free hand.

"Of course. I'll be there as soon as I can." He was silent again, listening.

"No, there's no need. I have money — I love you, too, Mom. Just... Just tell him to hang on. — Yeah. Bye."

He passed the phone back to me then sat down heavily in the trunk of his car, covering his face with both hands.

"Edward? What's happened?"

"It's my dad." His voice was muffled by his hands. "He's been in a really bad car accident. He's alive, but barely. They've got him on life support."

"I'm so sorry, Edward." I started to get up and go to him, but he put out both hands to stop me.

"Please, Bella, don't touch me just yet. I have to keep it together and sort myself out and I can't do it if you..."

"What do you need to do? Book a flight?" He nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. "Here, use my iPad. It's hooked up to my phone already. Use the phone too if you need to."

I sat back down in my car then lay back on my mattress. It was selfish to even think about it with Carlisle's life hanging in the balance, but it was all I could do. Edward was going to go back to London and who knew how long he'd have to stay there, or if he'd ever come back. I would finally be on my own, living this new life without him by my side.

My mind drifted until I was broken out of my thoughts by something landing on my chest. I picked it up to see that it was a paper aeroplane. I smiled as I read the words "open me" on one of the flaps and began unfolding the paper carefully.

A chill crept up my arms.

Filling the page completely was a drawing of me standing by a bookcase, holding a book. From the clothes I was wearing, it looked exactly like our first meeting, except for the title on the front cover of the book which read, "In you, I have found the other half of my soul."

With my heart pounding, I slowly sat up and looked across at Edward.

"How long have you known?" I whispered.

"A while."

"When?" I swallowed hard. "When did you get my letter?"

"The day I came back, while you were in the laundromat. When I went to buy water, I also went to the secondhand bookstore, hoping they still had a book I wanted. Tanya caught me just as I was leaving and gave me your letter."

"What book did you want?"

He frowned. "The one on foraging; the book I was holding when we first met."

"I have it," I said, leaning back into my trunk and lifting the lid on one of my crates.

He laughed as he got up and walked across to me, holding out his hand. I offered the book up to him.

"It's yours," I said. "You can have it."

"No, Bella, give me your hand."

I put the book down and put my hand in his, letting him pull me up into his arms.

"Say it, Bella. Please say the words."

I looked up at him and cleared my throat. "In you, Edward Cullen, I have found the other half of my soul."

"I love you," he said, his eyes glistening.

"I love you." I let out a small sob.

"Come on," he said, pulling away from me and wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

He passed me my iPad, packed up his art materials and busied himself, pulling boxes and bags out of his car and onto the damp ground. I caught on quickly and gathered up my pillow and blankets so he could move my mattress to lay beside his. We put his things into my trunk and closed both tailgates.

Once we'd snuggled down in his car, I rubbed my hands over his back and shoulders, trying to massage the worry from his tired face.

"You've known how I feel about you all this time," I whispered. "Why didn't you tell me you had my letter?"

"I was waiting for you to tell me yourself. So many moments I thought you'd say it, but you didn't."

"I've wanted to tell you for so long."

"Why didn't you?"

"You kept holding yourself back and I wasn't sure that I was what you wanted. I was scared if I told you, you'd run away."

"But we made love," he said. I smiled at his choice of words. "I told you then that I wasn't holding back anymore. Couldn't you tell how I felt about you?"

"Couldn't you have just told me?"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I don't want to leave you."

"I wouldn't want you to do anything else, Edward. Your parents need their son and you need them. I love you, Edward Cullen," I said, kissing his nose, his cheeks and his mouth.

"I need you, Bella."


	16. Sixteen

**Sixteen**

The expression on his face was heartbreaking to see and no doubt mine was similar. He needed me and I needed him too.

We quietly took off our clothes and lay facing each other, kissing and touching until it wasn't enough anymore. I reached behind me into my backpack pocket for a condom and handed it to Edward. Once he was ready, he hitched my leg over his hip and pushed inside me. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

"I don't want to leave you," he said.

"You have to."

He moved slowly in and out, savouring every stroke. It was a bittersweet pleasure, knowing that in a few hours we'd have to say goodbye.

When he finally gave in and touched me to make me come, I was so overcome with emotion that I couldn't stop the tears from flowing. He kissed me as he reached his own release and we stayed locked together, neither one willing to let the other go.

"What time do you have to leave?" I whispered.

"Emmett knows to expect us first thing tomorrow. My flight leaves SeaTac at two o'clock."

"Let me drive you to the airport."

"Of course."

...

He woke me with his fingers running through my hair. His hand moved over my shoulder to touch my breast and he pressed himself against my ass.

"Again," he murmured in my ear, reaching across me to retrieve another condom.

...

"It's not enough," he said, crawling up my body from between my thighs.

"I know," I said, panting and reaching into my backpack pocket once more.

"I promise I'll come back... home," he whispered, sliding himself inside me.

...

In the early hours of the morning, we emptied Edward's cooler into mine, reorganised our belongings, and drove to Emmett's house.

I was surprised when both Emmett _and_ Rosalie came out to meet us. They wrapped their arms around Edward, whispering in his ear. Rosalie went back inside to fix some breakfast, while Emmett fetched out a small carry-on suitcase. He then went in search of Edward's passports, leaving us to pack his things.

After breakfast, Edward used their home computer to print out his flight confirmation. I took a quick shower and when I came back downstairs, I could hear the three of them talking in the kitchen.

"...worry, we'll sort everything out for you, Ed. I can store your stuff here and a mate of mine has an empty garage where we can put your car."

"Thanks, Em. Can you do something else for me?"

"What's that?"

"Look out for Bella."

"We'll be here if she needs us." Rosalie said.

I made a noise before entering the kitchen and took the cup of coffee that Rosalie held out to me. Edward kissed my cheek and ran upstairs to get showered and changed.

"I'm sorry," Rosalie said, "for how I behaved toward you last time. I was rude."

"It's okay," I replied. It didn't seem that important anymore.

"I was jealous."

"What? Of me with Edward?"

"No, jealous of you both, for being brave enough to change your lives."

I forced a smile and drank my coffee.

...

The drive to Seattle was silent.

I focussed on the road, barely breathing and desperate not to cry. It wouldn't have been fair to Edward.

I parked in the parking garage and turned to face him. He was staring straight ahead with his fists clenched at his sides.

"Edward?"

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. "You can't come in with me."

"Yes I can."

"No, you can't. I'm terrified, Bella. My dad could be dead by the time I get there, but I have to go and if you come in there with me, I won't be able to leave."

"Okay."

As he got out of the car, I went to open my door.

"Please don't," he said.

"Okay."

I turned in my seat and watched him open the tailgate to get his case.

"Edward? I still have your sketchbook. Should I give it to Emmett?"

"No. It's yours. You keep it."

He closed the tailgate and started walking toward the elevators.

I watched, holding my breath, waiting for him to be out of sight so I could let go. He was halfway there when he suddenly stopped, dropped his case and ran back toward my car.

I opened my door and jumped out into his arms, receiving the most desperate of kisses.

"I'm sorry. Forgive me. I can't believe..."

"Shh. I love you."

"I love you."

And with one last kiss he was gone.

...

I sat in my car, tears streaming down my face. The tears turned to sobs and I just let it all out until I was gasping for air.

When I'd eventually managed to calm myself, I reached behind me for my backpack and opened the pocket containing the blue envelope that my father had given me when Edward and I left Forks.

A folded sheet of paper fell out of the card. I looked at it and dug in my purse for my phone.

"Hello?" My breath caught at the sound of my dad's voice. "Hello? Bella, is that you?"

"Hi, Dad. Thanks for the gift."

"Thought I'd get you something useful."

"Yeah, it's great."

"Glad you like it. I checked them out with a buddy of mine in the Portland Police. They know you're, er, travelling, so they'll unload your things and put them in the waiting area. You can have a coffee and use their wifi while they detail your car."

"Thanks, Dad."

"What did Edward get you?"

"He doesn't know."

"You didn't tell him it's your birthday?"

"No. He's gone." I choked on the words and the tears began to fall again.

"What the...?"

"He's had to go to London. His father was in a car crash and he's on life support."

"Where are you?"

"SeaTac." I was surprised he didn't know. Perhaps he didn't check the tracking device obsessively after all.

"You're in Seattle? Come home, Bella."

"Much as I want to, I can't. I have to go into the office tomorrow to sign some paperwork. It's my last day."

"How about I come to you?"

"Dad, it'll take you three hours or more."

"I could meet you in Tacoma, find us a bed and breakfast for the night and you can drive back in the morning."

"I'll be okay, really I will."

"Alright, if you say so, but call me if you change your mind."

"Thanks. I love you."

"Love you too, Bella."

No sooner had I said goodbye and ended the call than my phone started ringing. I looked at the display, debating whether I should answer or not.

"Hello Alice."

"Bella, I've found him!"

"Found who?"

"My cowboy, of course. He was in Houston all along."

"Did you tell him off?"

"I couldn't. He smiled at me and said, 'What took you so long, I was expecting you last week.'" She giggled and my mouth curled up at the corners, just a little bit.

Her cowboy turned out to be a small animal vet called Jasper Whitlock, who just so happened to be into Civil War Reenacting in a very big way. He was a Major in a Texas based battalion of the Confederate Army. Alice had been encouraged to look him up by the couple she'd befriended in Austin - the couple I'd seen in the photograph. Charlotte was a dressmaker and her husband, Peter, a police officer and Jasper's Lieutenant.

Alice's rambling served as a distraction, but, after a while, I wasn't really concentrating on what she was saying.

"Are you okay, Bella, you haven't said a word in about five minutes?" Could I have got one in edgeways?

"Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night."

She snorted and, although she was somewhat accurate in her assumption, I didn't dampen her good humour by telling her about the emotional circumstances that led to my sleepless night.

"I'm really happy for you, Alice. I'll catch up with your blog tomorrow and take a look at your Southern gentleman."

"Yes! That is exactly what he is," she said, dreamily. "Talk to you soon."

"Bye, Alice."

Once I'd switched my phone off and put it away, I looked in the rear view mirror to reverse out and noticed how red my eyes were. My cheeks were blotchy too. I looked awful and I felt awful and if I wasn't careful, I'd start crying all over again.

I was thirty years old, living in my car, unpublished and alone.

Happy Birthday to me!


	17. Seventeen

**Seventeen**

My selfish wallowing didn't last very long. I reminded myself exactly why I was alone, and why Edward had had to fly thousands of miles away, and felt guilty.

I pulled myself together and drove for about an hour, stopping at a rest area just south of Olympia for some much needed sleep. After checking all my doors and windows were locked, I clambered into the back of my car, lay down on my mattress and closed my eyes.

Some three hours later, I finally came to, grabbed my wash bag and went to find the restrooms. Feeling fresher, I bought a takeout coffee at the small cafe and returned to my car to make myself a sandwich.

With the tailgate up, I took the remains of the loaf Edward had bought in St Helens out of my cooler. With the change in the weather, we had begun to buy butter and store it in a plastic container, so I spread some liberally onto two slices of bread and leaned over to open my larder crate. My breath caught in my throat and I quickly covered my mouth with my hand.

When had Edward found the time to put six jars of Marmite in my car and just how long did he expect to be away?

...

Back in Portland, I filled the remaining hours of daylight mindlessly doing my laundry.

Halfway through, when I was switching my clothes from the washer to the dryer, my chest was feeling so tight, I had to force myself to expand my lungs with each breath.

Edward would be in the air for nine hours or more, so I would be unlikely to hear from him before I went to sleep. I would definitely need comfort food later on and, as I couldn't easily use my stove in the city, I would have to practice my Thermos cooking.

Once my washing was completely dry and packed away in my car, I bought a few extra groceries from a nearby store.

Parking in the most secluded spot I could find in the fitness centre parking lot, I boiled a kettle and filled two Thermos flasks with hot water to warm them. I prepared pasta in one for my dinner and some oat groats in the other for breakfast. When the pasta was cooked, and I'd drained it into the gutter, I tossed it in a bowl with some butter, broken walnuts, crumbled cheese and a grinding of black pepper.

I felt too full and drowsy to go swimming after my meal, so I used the centre restrooms to wash my utensils and myself, then snuggled down under a blanket on my mattress and drifted straight off to sleep.

...

The loud ping of an incoming email woke me in the middle of the night. I'd obviously forgotten to switch my phone to silent. Checking the time, I squinted at the bright screen and jolted awake instantly, on seeing the name of the sender.

 _Bella,_

 _If you've received this, it must mean I've landed at Heathrow. I'm drafting this on the plane and its fiddly on my stupid, old phone._

 _I'm sorry I was such a jerk at the airport. I don't know what I was thinking. I regretted leaving you behind the minute I entered the terminal, but I know if I'd taken you in with me, I couldn't have got on the plane._

 _What does that make me? The most selfish of creatures; the worst kind of son._

 _I don't want to have to face what I might see at the hospital. I want to ask my mother how he looks before we go in, but I just can't do that to her. Times like this, I wish I wasn't an only child. I wish I had an older brother, who could go ahead to warn me, to tell me how bad Dad looks, so I don't break down when I see him._

 _I feel guilty for staying away so long. I feel guilty for living my life so far from my parents. I feel guilty for leaving you. But I can't ever regret meeting you, knowing you, holding you. Loving you._

 _Forgive me, but I think I might find it difficult to correspond over the next few days, but that doesn't mean I won't be thinking about you whenever I can._

 _Yours always,_

 _Edward x_

I wrote quick reply, telling him there was nothing to be sorry for, nothing to forgive. I told him how much I loved him and that I would be thinking of him constantly.

Finding my chest expanding almost fully once more, I drifted back into a dreamless sleep, waking with the dawn for a swim and a shower.

...

At the office, after signing all the necessary paperwork in human resources, I was escorted to the lobby, where my boss was waiting to say goodbye.

"Bella, it's good to see you. How's the travelling going?" she said.

"Great, thanks." I smiled as brightly as I could, knowing that had I seen her a few days earlier, my smile would have been more genuine.

"Where have you been?"

"Um, I've been exploring Oregon mostly."

"Oh! I thought you'd go much further afield."

"Well, it seemed easier while I was working my notice - less distracting. As it is, I've discovered places I didn't know existed." There was some truth in my answer, but none in my next statement. "I'll be going out of state now."

"Are you keeping a blog? Can I follow you?"

"I might, now I have more time to write one. I'll let you know." I lied, surprised by her interest. She barely knew me.

It made me feel uncomfortable, telling her a mixture of lies and half truths, but I suspected I'd have to get used to it now I was on my own. Saying I was travelling was far preferable to saying I was homeless, even if that was by choice and not necessity.

As I left the office and walked back to my car, I knew I was finally free to do whatever I wanted, but, at the same time, I felt weighed down by the knowledge that I no longer had an income and no idea where to go next.

I needed to take stock and knew just the place I wanted to do it.

...

The librarian on the front desk of St Helens public library smiled in recognition as I entered, with my backpack slung over my shoulder.

"Hello," she said. "You've come back to visit us again."

"Yes."

"Where are you from?"

"Forks, Washington" I replied, stretching the truth just a little bit. "I'm travelling with my husband. He has a work commitment nearby."

"Oh. Where are you staying?" It was highly likely that she knew most of the residents in the area, given her profession and the size of the city, so I pondered briefly how I could get around this without opening myself up to more questions.

"Um, we have some friends in Scappoose, but I much prefer to use the library here."

"You're a writer, aren't you?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," she replied smugly. Had she been watching me on my previous visits? "Would we have anything you've written?"

"No, I'm not published yet. I'm working on that one." I smiled, pointing toward a table in the corner and walked away briskly. I sat down, set out my notebooks, pens and iPad and gathered my thoughts.

At dusk, I returned to the last parking spot I'd shared with Edward. I wasn't sure whether it was the memory of our last night together, or the fact that I felt isolated and unsafe without him by my side, but I just couldn't get to sleep.

I stared into the darkness and imagined his soft, deep voice telling me not to be so reckless with my safety.

Around midnight, I gave up and drove back to McCormick Park, hiding my car in among the dwindling campers' vehicles. I slept through till dawn.

...

Over the next few days, I revisited all the websites I'd bookmarked when I'd researched car living, after Edward's first departure. I re-read everything, reminding myself of how to stay clean and safe, eat well and save money, in order to extend my chances of maintaining the lifestyle as long as possible.

I now understood why Edward was so excited at the prospect of buying groceries for two instead of one. A loaf shared doesn't go stale and smaller quantities are not usually cost effective. I tried to plan my meals for the week so I wouldn't waste any fresh food or end up eating the same meal for days on end. I bought the smallest bag of frozen mixed vegetables I could find to keep the few fresh items in my cooler chilled for longer. When it had completely defrosted a couple of days later, I found a vacant campsite in the park, set up my stove and made a thick stew, storing the leftovers in a Thermos for the next day.

In the library, I edited my diary entries and prepared my blog to go public. I set up a tab in preparation for an online story and downloaded copies of Alice's photographs to inspire me. I gathered information on all the haunted places in Oregon that I had yet to visit and studied Edward's sketchbook over and over, developing the ideas in my notebooks.

A week after I had said goodbye to Edward at SeaTac, I felt ready to head back to Portland, see some sights and get writing. It was just as well, given my monthly need to stay close to a fitness centre and its facilities.

...

I'd received only a couple of short emails from Edward during my week in St Helens, each describing the sorry state his poor father was in. Nothing much had changed since Edward's arrival in London, but over the next month, Carlisle's condition did begin to improve.

He regained consciousness and came off life support, much to the relief of Edward and Esme, but had no memory of the accident. His recovery would prove to be a long and painful process.

Halfway through October, I had my first story accepted by a quarterly magazine. It would be published in their December edition. It wasn't the highest paying magazine I'd approached, but the sense of achievement was huge, nonetheless, and the editor had expressed an interest in seeing more of my work. I either had to write something new, or wait for some of my other pieces to be rejected before I could forward them to her.

My small success gave me the courage to finally make my blog public and post the short story I'd written. I added a link to Alice's photographs of people reflected in the windows of Oklahoma City and she made a special entry on her blog, announcing it to her followers.

Alice's blog updates had slowed considerably since her arrival in Houston. I knew from her emails that she was staying with her cowboy and had become involved with his reenactment group. Charlotte was teaching her to sew her own period clothing on the weekends and while Jasper was at work in the week, Alice was exploring Houston.

Reading her occasional entries and her more informative emails, when I was alone and cold at night in my car, made me feel more than a little sorry for myself.

Most days were now wet, grey and miserable. I got soaked to the skin on countless occasions, just going to and from my car, and was increasingly aware of the dank smell coming from my discarded clothes and sneakers.

Though the nights were getting longer, I was sleeping less than I had through the summer months. I wrote into the early hours of the morning, hidden under my blankets with a wind-up lantern, until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. Each time I awoke, I would reach out to the side, but I never found the warmth I was hoping for, just the cold, hard plastic of one of my crates, or the rough, canvas fabric of a hold-all.

During the day, I immersed myself in the supernatural, either writing it, reading it, or occasionally visiting the haunted parts of Portland. I got so lost in my head that I often forgot to eat. My appetite diminished and, given that it was too cold and wet to cook outside on my stove, my diet became quite limited.

Despite my minor success with my writing and the mostly positive reviews for my online story, I was miserable and beginning to doubt my every decision.


	18. Eighteen

**Eighteen**

The rain was running down the coffee shop windows as I stared out onto the street, with my iPad open on the table.

The sound of an incoming message alert caught my attention and, when I looked down at my iPad to read it, I was stunned to see it was from Edward. This was the first time I'd ever had any form of communication from him other than an email and, as this type of message was peculiar to only one brand of hardware, I was doubly surprised. Had he been spending his money?

 _Are you somewhere you can talk? Are you on wifi?_

I looked around me. It was the middle of the afternoon and the shop was mostly populated by young mothers with babies in prams and strollers. I was in a quiet enough spot for a conversation, so I replied " _Yes."_

In seconds, my iPad was indicating that I had an incoming video call. I touched the screen to accept it and adjusted the volume control.

"Hello, Bella."

"Oh!" I covered my mouth and reached for the paper napkin on the table, sniffing as I dabbed at the corners of my eyes. "Sorry, I just..."

"That bad, huh?"

"The very best kind of shock," I said, studying his face.

His skin was deathly pale and he had dark shadows under his eyes. His face was thinner and his cheekbones more defined than I could ever remember seeing them.

"Oh no, Edward! I thought your Dad was okay now?"

"He is." He frowned. "He's doing really well. We're bringing him home in a couple of days."

"Then why do you look so...?" I clamped my hand back over my mouth. How could I be so thoughtless?

"I could say the same, Bella," Edward replied, one eyebrow raised. "Seems you're not doing much better than me."

"I'm so sorry. I feel like we've gone back to the beginning, when my mouth would just run away with itself."

"I love when your mouth does that," he said, smirking. "I already knew I missed you, but I didn't realise quite how much until now. I'm breathing for the first time in weeks."

"Don't! I can't fall apart in a public place." I needed to change the subject and quickly. "Did you get an iPhone?"

"Nah. My mom bought my dad a new iTouch. This is his old one and it's certainly an improvement on the decrepit phone I was using, if for nothing else so I can talk to you whenever I..." He paused, his eyes downcast. "I've, um..."

"What?"

"I've got a job."

"Where?"

"Here - in London." He raised his eyes to look at me again.

"Oh." My mind swirled in all directions, making me feel nauseous. "Doing what?"

"Graphic design. I had to do something with my time. In between visiting hours at the hospital I was going crazy and I needed a distraction. A friend of Mom's was looking for an assistant on a project and, let's face it, I could do with the money."

"Congratulations." I forced a smile.

"I'm still coming home, Bella," he said.

"You are home."

"No, Bella. My home is with you. Say you believe me."

"I.. I don't know," I whispered. "I'm scared that..."

"What? Spit it out."

"I'm scared you'll realise you're better off where you are, without me, and I'm just..."

"You're just what?"

Dull. Uninteresting. Lonely. Miserable. "Feeling sorry for myself."

"Hey! Where's that strong, determined girl I fell in love with?"

I choked back a pathetic sob, but he could clearly see me crumbling.

"Shit!" he said. "Sorry, sorry. Forget I said that. We've already established I'm a complete mess without you."

I wiped my nose with the napkin and took a deep breath. "Do you know when you might be back, um, home?"

He smiled. "The contract is only for three months. I'm hoping by the time it's done, Dad and Mom will be able to manage on their own."

"I miss you." I whispered. "At night I get so cold and when I sleep I dream of you, in my car, in your car... in the clearing..."

"Oh fuck, Bella, me too." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Why haven't you left Portland?"

"I know it sounds silly, but I feel closer to you here."

"Remember how you were going to do this whole thing without me?" I nodded. "What would you have been doing now if I'd not come back?"

"Travelling, I guess, like Alice. She keeps talking about this big Civil War reenactment weekend in November that her friends are involved in. I'd kind of like to see that and meet them all, but it's such a long way and I really wish you could come with me."

"Just do it, Bella. Don't wait around for me. Keep posting your blog so I can imagine I'm with you and maybe this time next year we can go together for real."

"Really?"

"Do you need my permission?" He smirked. "Go see Alice and have some fun."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

A notification popped up on my screen to say that the battery was running low, so we said our goodbyes while we still could and ended the call.

...

With my iPad recharged, I went over my finances and budgeted for the upcoming months, allowing for the possibility that I might not get another story published. A trip to Texas would make a serious dent in my savings in gas alone and I couldn't see how I could justify the expense when I wasn't earning.

Desperate to block out the fact that I would be without Edward for another twelve weeks, I buried myself back in my writing.

...

You'd have thought that a writer of ghost stories would be aware of the spookiest night of the year approaching, but I was completely oblivious of the date until a group of pint sized ghouls rapped on the window of my car, shouting, "Trick or treat!"

I had nothing to give them, other than four and a half jars of Marmite, so I lowered the window and offered to tell them a ghost story. They accepted and listened attentively, while I spun them a ridiculous tale about three ghoulish children's attempts to escape a wicked witch, who kept a large cauldron and a camping stove in her car.

When the children ran off shrieking and giggling, I felt a wave of sadness come over me. Before my mother's departure, Halloween had been my favourite holiday. It had lost its appeal after that and held even less sitting in the musty confines of my car, parked at the end of a residential street in northeast Portland.

I watched as several groups of children paraded from house to house, wondering if any others would dare approach my vehicle. I longed for their childhood innocence, their fearlessness and their wonder at the world.

What was I doing? I'd liberated myself from one restrictive box only to put myself into another, a couple of months later. What did happen to the strong, determined girl Edward fell in love with? I really wanted to be her again.

...

Alice was so excited when I told her I was planning to come and see her, that my right ear was still ringing ten minutes after we'd finished our call.

Travelling to Texas would be my first real adventure, so rather than drive for two days straight, I decided to stretch the journey out over a week. I researched my route thoroughly, finding haunted places to visit along the way and most importantly, sensible places to stop for the night.

In the middle of planning, I remembered my dad's birthday gift and booked my car in to be detailed. It would be good to be rid of the smell of damp clothes and shoes.

I submitted the stories I had finished to various magazines, bought a few extra items of summer clothing from a thrift store, and bought a waterproof pouch big enough to hold my phone, bank card and car keys. I would hang the pouch around my neck whenever I took a shower.

Later in the week, I sat in the waiting room of Mike's Auto Spa with all my possessions stacked around me and called my dad. He was none too happy with the idea of me travelling so far from home alone, but he did his best to muster up some enthusiasm for my benefit. When I told him I was currently having my car detailed, he suddenly said he had to go and hung up.

I picked up an old magazine from the pile on the coffee table and started reading an article about home decorating. When I got bored with that, I flipped over a few pages to a fashion feature for working women. As I reached for another magazine, my phone rang.

"Hey, Dad. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. I needed to make a call," he said. "Bella, there's an auto repair centre a couple of blocks over called Dwyer's. Do you know it?"

"Charles Swan! What are you up to?"

He sniggered. "I've booked your car in for a once over. Can you be there for 2pm?"

"I suppose so."

"Do you want me to go grey early?"

"Ha! You're already going grey, Dad, and looking quite distinguished with it too."

"There's no need for flattery, Bella," he said laughing, "I've already paid Dwyer's."

"Dad! I can afford to pay for my own car maintenance!"

"I know you can, but I'd bet my best fishing reel you thought long and hard about spending money on this trip. Just allow me look after my daughter, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Dad."

...

With one day to go, I did my laundry, bought a loaf of bread, some apples and some water, and filled up on gas. Hoping to exhaust myself enough to sleep, I went to the gym in northeast Portland for a yoga class, a swim and a shower, then bedded down for the night in the parking lot.


	19. Nineteen

**Nineteen**

Despite the rain hammering on my windshield, I felt a black cloud lifting as I headed east out of Portland along the interstate, following the line of the Columbia river. I should have done this sooner.

After about four hours, I took the exit just south of La Grande to the Hot Lake Hotel. I'd been fascinated by the history of this site. Once a sanitorium, it was said to be haunted by the ghosts of suicidal patients, a doctor who had killed himself in an operating room, and a nurse who had died after falling into the scalding hot springs.

It was currently a bed and breakfast, but I was still able to visit the museum and walk around the grounds, taking photographs. With the heavy clouds in the background and light rain in the air, my shots had an oppressive and ominous feel about them, perfect for the ideas developing in my head.

Back on the Interstate, I drove on to another hotel: the Geiser Grand in Baker City. This building was simply stunning and I couldn't resist going inside and sitting in the bar with a cup of coffee, in the hope that I might get touched or pinched by the playful spirits others had encountered there.

Sipping my coffee, I remembered the gruesome tale I'd read of the hotel's chef who had been decapitated when a dumb waiter came down on him without warning. I wondered if I could make a story out of that. I jotted down some ideas then, making use of the hotel's wifi, I uploaded my photographs to my blog and got back on the road.

As I crossed the state line into Idaho, I cheered. It was the first time I'd been out of either Washington or Oregon in as long as I could remember. I stopped at a Walmart Superstore just twenty-three miles short of Boise and went in to ask the manager for his consent to stay the night. I washed up in the restrooms and bought some cooked chicken before going back to my car.

Connecting my iPad to my phone, I posted my finished blog entry and sketched out a story based on the Hot Lakes sanitorium, which I then emailed to Edward. By the time that was done, I'd received three comments on my blog.

Alice's comment screamed excitement at the start of my journey to see her. I half expected the letters to bounce up and down on the screen. My dad's was the usual brief "good night, be safe" kind of thing and the third read suspiciously like it was from someone I knew growing up in Forks.

...

On waking the next morning, I checked my phone for a response from Edward, but there wasn't one. I read the few new comments on my blog, stretched my limbs, grabbed my wash bag and trudged through the early morning drizzle to use the store's restrooms.

I bought myself a coffee and some berries, which I ate with my oatmeal, stopped by the gas station and then drove toward Boise.

The Idaho State Penitentiary, reputedly the most haunted prison in the state, didn't open until noon, so I wandered around the nearby botanical gardens for a couple of hours.

Before the start of the lunchtime prison tour, I made myself a Marmite sandwich and a mug of bouillon soup and sat in my car until a couple of carloads of visitors arrived. I got out to join them in waiting for the front door of the prison to open.

The crisp November day was already chilly, but the temperature dropped markedly as we entered the cellblock buildings. Then, as the tour guide began to tell us stories of the inmates and some of the executions, I felt the chill reach my bones. Execution by hanging was not the most instantaneous of deaths.

The collection of weapons confiscated from inmates was disturbing and the massive machinery in the laundry had me shuddering, but it was the second floor gallows room, with its trapdoor, that affected me most. I found the entire experience to be emotionally draining and depressing, yet at the same time it inspired me to write.

The silence in my car on the five hour drive to Salt Lake City helped me to shape my thoughts. I talked out loud to myself, repeating my story over and over so that I would remember it when I had a chance to write it down.

I parked in the lot of a fitness centre in the south-east of the city and dug out my membership card. There weren't any classes running, so I swam in the pool for half an hour, had a hot shower and went back to my car in a corner of the parking lot. I made myself another sandwich, ate an apple and a handful of nuts, and wrote up my story until the daylight began to fade.

After using the gym facilities once more, I burrowed under my blankets with my wind-up lantern to prepare my next blog entry. I checked my email, but there was still no reply from Edward. Disappointed, I sent him a copy of that day's story and went to sleep.

...

The Fort Douglas Museum was just a short drive from the fitness centre, but once again I had a whole morning to fill before it opened at noon. I found a coffee shop with free wifi, set myself up near the back with my iPad and posted my blog.

Fifteen minutes later, I received a comment and a private message, both from the person I thought I might know. In his message, he asked if I remembered the time I'd stuck a fish hook through his finger.

As I walked around the museum, I wished I had my dad with me. He'd have been far more interested than I was in all the military vehicles, weaponry and equipment.

My reason for stopping here was to hopefully catch a glimpse of Clem, the resident museum ghost who was thought to be a Civil War era soldier. Staff and guests alike had heard footsteps on the stairs, or seen items moving by themselves, and there had been countless sightings of the old soldier in his Federal uniform.

I took some photographs of the Civil War artefacts to show Jasper and, when I'd seen enough, I gave up on Clem and walked over to the cemetery to wander among the headstones and call my dad.

He answered immediately. "Bella! You okay?"

"Fine, Dad, stop worrying. I'm in the cemetery at Fort Douglas, enjoying the sunshine while it lasts. I think you'd like the museum."

"I'm sure I'll see your photos later," he said with a smile in his voice. "It's been good to see you doing something different."

"Dad, has anyone been asking about me?"

"Ah. Yes, an old friend of ours from La Push. Hope you don't mind, but I told him about your online diary."

"No, that's okay, I wanted to be sure it's really him, you know. He, um, sent me a message, reminding me of that time I put a fish hook through his finger."

My dad snorted. "Nice of him not to mention you cracking your head open when you fainted."

"There was so much blood!" I was feeling queasy just thinking about it.

"Did you talk to him, Bella?"

"Not yet. We haven't been in touch since he left La Push. I don't..."

"His father had a heart attack. He's come back home to look after him."

"Oh."

"Any news from Edward?"

"Only a couple of short messages and nothing since I left Portland." So much for the stupid iTouch. "His father is back home now. With that and his job, he's short on time."

"Sounds about right. You might be out of sight, Bella, but I doubt you're out of mind. You're not easy to forget. I should know."

"Thanks, Dad. Talk soon."

"Stay safe, Bella. Bye."

I walked back to my car and sat inside it, looking through my photographs. One of the museum shots had a strange reflection in the glass of the display case. I enlarged the image a little and fiddled with the contrast. Goosebumps spread up my arms as the shapes began to make more sense. It would seem I had met Clem after all and he had stood behind me, breathing down my neck.

...

After spending a second night in the fitness centre parking lot, I stopped at the nearest gas station and headed east out of the city and across Wyoming.

Before leaving Portland, I'd phoned ahead and booked myself on the first tour of the afternoon at The Wyoming Frontier Prison in Rawlins, an imposing castle-like structure, designed by the same architects as Alcatraz.

The tour guide was strangely perky as she showed everyone around, relaying stories of the prisoners and how they were mistreated by the wardens. We saw the cells, the barber shop and exhibits detailing the history of manufacture at the prison, but she took a particular delight in showing us The Death House.

The metal gas chamber had been used to execute five prisoners and the supposedly "humane" Julien Gallows mechanism, whereby the prisoner effectively hung himself, had polished off nine in total. She finished the hour long tour with the pitch black solitary confinement cell, Old Hole. I'd read about the ghost that inhabited that space and so didn't accept her offer to step inside.

I left swiftly for my next destination, which was two hours away in Cheyenne - The Historic Plains Hotel. With the receptionist's permission, I sat in the lobby and soaked up the atmosphere, recalling the legend I'd read online.

Rosie and her new groom were staying in the hotel for their honeymoon. One evening, her husband went down for a drink in the bar. When he didn't return, Rosie went looking for him and saw him chatting with a "lady." She watched as the pair left the bar together and went upstairs. In a fit of jealous rage, Rosie followed them to the "lady's" room and shot them both dead with her husband's gun. She then returned to her own room and shot herself.

The ghosts of all three were said to have haunted the hotel ever since, appearing to guests and employees over the years. Both laughter and crying had been heard behind the door to the newlyweds' room.

From the hotel, it was just a short drive to St. Mark's Episcopal Church. The church did not allow any tours relating to the supernatural, so I took photographs of the exterior. Looking up at the bell tower, I recalled the story of the two Swedish masons that were hired to complete it, but then disappeared. Replacement workers heard tapping and hammering sounds and whispers coming from the walls. Years later, a man came forward with an explanation. One of the Swedish masons had slipped while working on the tower and fallen to his death. The other, panicking that he would be deported, had entombed his friend's remains in the tower wall.

From Cheyenne, I drove south to Fort Collins. There, the fitness centre parking lot was quite exposed and I hoped I wouldn't draw too much attention to myself by staying overnight. I took in my own towel for my shower, then hung it to dry in my car while I snacked on the remains of my fresh food. Despite the constant flow of cars in and out of the lot, no one knocked on my window.

...

I woke with the sunrise, my iPad still by my side.

After a quick visit to the restrooms to freshen up, I drove to a nearby bakery for some breakfast and took advantage of their free wifi to upload my blog and check my emails. I soon wished I'd done the latter the previous night, because Edward had finally replied to my email from the first day of my journey.

Tears stung my eyes as I opened the attachments: a pencil drawing to illustrate the sanitorium story I had outlined, another for my penitentiary story and several more eerie sketches worked from my photographs.

I checked the clock on my phone. It was just after lunchtime in London. I presumed he would be at work, so I sent him a text message.

 _Can you talk?_

His reply was almost instant: _In about five minutes._ _Are you on wifi? I'll call you._

I replied " _Yes_ " and held my breath, waiting for his video call. I waited... and I waited... and I waited... until I had to get on with my day or fall behind schedule. I sent him a message to that effect, packed up my stuff and reluctantly went back to my car.


	20. Twenty

**Twenty**

There was no way I could drive through Colorado without detouring to see The Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, given its famous literary connection. Ghost tours were nighttime affairs, so I'd had to book a mid-morning tour that would include some, but sadly not all, of the haunted parts of the hotel. In truth, it was worth the extra gas for the surrounding scenery alone.

From Estes Park, I drove straight on to Denver to visit the Peabody-Whitehead Mansion. The catalogue of supernatural events that had taken place in this building had grown over the years, but the most intriguing for me came from the time of its first inhabitants.

Doctor William Riddick Whitehead and his family took up residence in the mansion immediately after its construction. Whitehead had served as a battlefield surgeon in both the Russian Crimean and the American Civil Wars. The Crimean War was one of the dirtiest and deadliest in modern world history, due to the appalling medical practices of the time, and the number of soldiers dying under Whitehead's care only increased during the Civil War. Rumour had it that the spirits of Whitehead's battlefield patients had followed him to back Denver from New York.

I was stood outside the building taking photographs when one of the office workers came out and invited me in. Guessing my interest, she offered to spend part of her lunch break showing me around the mansion and tell me all the strange happenings that she and her coworkers had experienced.

Katrina had been so kind that I offered to buy her lunch. We walked a couple of blocks to a sandwich shop and sat sharing our love of ghost stories. She was keen to read something I'd written, so I told her about my blog and gained another follower.

Before I got on the road again, I checked my phone to see three missed messages and a missed video call. I'd had silenced my phone at The Stanley Hotel and forgotten to switch it back. Now I felt truly awful.

 _Sorry. Had an emergency - Dad had a fall._

 _Bella? Are you there?_

 _Bella, answer me dammit!_

The poor man must have thought I was ignoring him on purpose. All I'd wanted to do was tell him how much his email had meant to me and now we were at odds. Ignoring my self imposed restrictions on mobile data usage, I attempted to video call him. He didn't pick up. I checked the time in London. Where could he be at eight o'clock in the evening?

Opening a new email, I wrote an apology, explaining what had happened my end. I told him how much I wanted to see his face, how much I wanted to hear his voice and that I was about to drive for six hours straight to Amarillo and by the time I arrived, it would be the middle of the night for him. I told him I loved him and pressed send.

I've no idea what scenic wonders I missed on the journey as it was all I could do to concentrate on the road. I didn't even notice when I crossed the state lines to Mexico and Texas.

Exhaustion hit as I pulled into the Walmart parking lot and found myself the perfect spot in amongst the RVs. The manager was accommodating, if a bit nosy as to my circumstances, but when I told him I was a writer, it seemed to satisfy his curiosity.

With no reply from Edward, I drafted a short blog entry, ready for the morning, and checked my phone for comments and messages for the one I'd posted at the bakery. My old friend had left another comment, but I'd had enough for the day. I switched my phone to silent and went to sleep.

...

Something was buzzing against my face. I batted it away at first, not realising it was my phone, then scrambled to retrieve it, hitting my head hard on one of the crates at the same time. Feeling a little dazed, I squinted at the screen. Data allowance be damned, I was taking this video call.

"Edward!"

"Hello sleeping beauty. Mmm, you look sexy like that."

"Stop it! I'm sure I look a mess. How's Carlisle? Is he okay now?"

"Oh yes, he's okay. Mom and I have aged ten years, but he's all smiles and charm with the nurses."

"He's back in hospital?"

"Yeah. They kept him in overnight, just to be safe. I've taken the afternoon off work to go with Mom and fetch him."

"What happened?"

"He stood up too quickly, lost his balance and hit his head on the coffee table on the way down. Mom was distraught. She couldn't bring him round at first, but he was awake by the time the ambulance arrived."

"Did you get my email?"

"Yes I did. I'm glad you like the drawings."

"I love them."

"I'd like to do more, but..."

"What?"

"Would you mind if...? Could we take a break?"

"A break." I froze for a moment, then started shivering. I pulled my blanket tighter around my body.

"I've got so much going on and I know I'm being a shitty boyfriend because of it. I think I need to just..."

"Have you met someone else?" I whispered.

"What? Even if I had the time, why in the hell would I do that when I love you?"

"I'm confused." My head was beginning to hurt now. "Do you or don't you want to break up with me?"

"Fuck." He rubbed his hand over his face and frowned. "That's not what I... We both know how crap I am with modern technology and you of all people know how absorbed I get in my work and this project is quite involved and then there's Dad and I'm just..."

"Do you want me to let you off the hook?"

His face relaxed a little. "Kind of, yeah."

"Fine, you're off the hook. Goodbye."

"Bella, stop! Fuck! Let me start again. Please!"

"Edward, you have my heart pounding so hard I'm going to need a doctor soon. So help me, if you were here -"

"Sorry. I'll try harder." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. "Look, you're busy travelling and writing. Soon, you'll meet up with Alice and her friends and talking to me will be much lower on your list of priorities, right?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I happen to think about you quite a lot." Almost all the time.

"I want you to be able to focus on your own things without feeling guilty or frustrated with me and, well, I want that for myself too. It doesn't mean we can't still email each other, but can we please take away all the pressure and expectation?"

I was beginning to understand him now, though it would have been nice if he could have been clearer from the outset.

"I'm using my mobile data to talk to you right now," I said, struggling to keep the corners of my mouth from curling up.

"Huh?"

"I don't do that for just anybody." I smiled. "You're very important to me."

"I'm honoured," he said, laughing nervously, "but what do you think of what I said?"

I watched his face closely. He was wincing, bracing himself for the worst.

"You're under a lot of pressure and you want to be relieved of some of it. You're asking the person that loves you more than anything, to be the one to take the pressure off. Am I right?"

"Yeah. Wish I could have said it like that." He swallowed and I finally noticed the cracks in his armour as a tear rolled down one cheek.

"Oh, Edward!"

"I just want to come home and I can't." He wiped the back of his hand under his nose.

Now I could see how close to breaking he was. The smallest things - a missed call, an unanswered text or email - always seem far worse when we're under stress. I'd had plenty moments like that myself, without the added pressures of caring for a sick parent.

And to see each other on a screen, to hear the other's voice through a speaker, not knowing when we'd be together again, was a bittersweet torture. Perhaps the level of detachment he was asking for would be easier for us both to bear.

"It's okay. It'll all be okay." I said, hoping against hope I was right.

We talked about my blog for a while, laughing at the Wyoming Frontier Prison guide and her upbeat enthusiasm for execution, then I told him about the previous day and I could see his eyes light up, just as mine must have done.

Then, reluctantly, I let him go so he could fetch his father home from hospital.

...

Carefully avoiding the nosy Walmart manager, I got washed and changed in the restrooms, then began another day of driving. Aside from admiring the scenery as I went by, there wasn't much else I wanted to look at until I reached Fort Worth. I broke my journey at a truck stop in Wichita Falls and made myself an early lunch, then drove straight through until I arrived at possibly the most haunted property in Texas.

Miss Molly's Hotel in the Fort Worth Stockades had been a speakeasy during prohibition and then a bordello before it became a boarding house. Most ghost sightings had been full bodied apparitions of working girls from its days as a brothel in the 1940s, though guests and staff had also encountered unexplained scents, lights turning on and off, toilets flushing on their own and items disappearing and reappearing.

As I toured the rooms with the owner, the period furniture and historically themed rooms reminded me of my visit to the Wolf Creek Inn with Edward. I would have truly loved to have stayed here, but if I was going to spend the money, I'd want to sharing the bed.

The hotel owner pointed me in the direction of the nearest laundromat and once I was done there, I sat in the park soaking up the warm Texas sunshine. I drove to the north of the city to one of the nicer gyms in my membership chain, swimming in the outdoor lap pool before taking a shower and joining the late yoga class.

I'd found a parking spot in the lot, not too far from the building, but in a little nook, away from the flow of traffic. I made myself some food, prepared my breakfast and connected my iPad to my phone, in order to update my blog with the draft from the day before and a short piece about Miss Molly's.

As the sun set, I checked for comments and as expected found a pointed one from my dad saying "Nice to know you're still alive" and one from Alice, who was counting down the hours until we met. And there was another from my old friend.

I tapped at my keyboard and sent him a private message.

 _Remember when I dropped a bucket of worms down the back of your T-shirt?_

I stared at the screen, willing him to reply. I wasn't disappointed.

 _That was the day I asked Charlie to teach me how to fish. You were so angry with him for saying yes._

 _He was taking away my playmate! I was too scared to put the worms down his shirt. That's why I picked on you._

 _Wanna talk. Can I call you?_

I didn't even stop to think about it. I sent him my number. I'd know as soon as I heard his voice that it was him. If he did turn out to be some crazy stalker, I'd just have to block his number - or change mine.


	21. Twenty-one

**Twenty-one**

After my mum left, my dad had little choice but to take me fishing with him and Harry. Much as I liked eating fish, I wasn't keen on the idea of catching them, so I used to take a book or a notebook and pen and sit wrapped in a blanket under a tree, or one of my dad's fishing umbrellas, until the day Harry brought me a friend to play with.

The boy was two years younger than me and had also been abandoned by his mother. I learned later that his father struggled with being a single parent and Harry was giving the man some space and the boy a friend who would understand his situation.

My phone started buzzing.

"Hey, Bella." His voice was deeper than I remembered, but otherwise exactly the same.

"Hi Paul! Sorry to hear about your dad."

"Stupid old fool was lucky he was with Harry when it happened or he'd be dead. He'd been having chest pains for months, but refused to go to the doctor."

"You sound angry."

"Too right. He should have looked after himself better."

"Are you staying with him?"

"Yeah. I'm making his life hell though, only allowing him to eat healthy shit and forcing him out of the house every day to do some exercise."

"What about your job?"

"Charlie didn't tell you, did he?"

"What?"

"I'm going to be his new deputy."

"You're replacing Steve? I bet Dad's over the moon."

"Something like that. How have you been?"

"So so. I'm sure you know by now that I'm living in my car, trying to make it as a writer."

"And travelling."

"Yeah, that's a recent development. I wasn't sure I had it in me to do it alone, by I'm really enjoying it."

"Why the big life change?"

"I met someone... someone really special. I wasn't happy with my life and needed to do something about it before it was too late, so I decided to try living like him."

"So, is the grass greener?"

"Huh?"

"You know, on the other side of the fence."

Was he being serious? "Yes. I don't know. Some days."

He laughed and it was such a familiar sound, despite our being out of touch for so long. We'd have to talk about that at some point.

I yawned loudly. "Sorry. I've done a lot of driving in the past few days and it's catching up with me."

"I'll let you go then."

"It was really nice to hear your voice, Paul. Thanks for contacting me."

"Can I call you again sometime?"

"If you like."

"Sleep well, Bella."

"You too, Paul."

...

I lay on my mattress staring at the roof of my car, thinking about what Paul had asked me. Was the grass greener living this way? It had seemed so when I was with Edward, but not so much without him. Did that make Edward the grass or the fertiliser?

Sniggering to myself, I drifted off to sleep.

...

I got up before the crack of dawn to eat my oatmeal and set off on the three hour drive to the Plantation Liendo in Hempstead. By the time I arrived, just before eight o'clock in the morning, I was already beginning to feel hungry again.

I scoured the reenactors parking lot for the red and blue trucks that Alice had instructed me to find. Every other damned vehicle was a truck, for crying out loud, and the majority of them were either blue or red!

Eventually, I spied a petite, dark haired woman in a long, pale green gown, jumping up and down and waving her hands frantically, between two appropriately coloured trucks. Once she'd moved out of the way, I turned my Chevy into the space and parked. My door was opened for me by a tall, blonde man in a Confederate uniform.

"Welcome to the past, ma'am," he said, offering me his hand.

"Good morning, Major Whitlock," I said, grinning as I let him pull me from the car.

His eyes lit up and his lips curled up into a devastating grin, but that abruptly disappeared when he was roughly shoved to one side.

"Get out of the way, Jasper! She's my friend!"

"Hello, Alice!" I said, as I felt her arms wrap tightly around me. It felt so good to be hugged, I didn't want her to let go.

"I'm so pleased you've made it, Bella," Alice whispered. "I think we'll be just what you need."

"I think so too," I whispered back, struggling to get a grip on my emotions.

"Come on, Alice! It's my turn now." Jasper gently tugged me toward him and into his embrace. He lowered his head and placed his lips close to my ear. "Thank you for coming, Bella. It means a lot to Alice to have you join us this weekend. I do hope you enjoy it."

As we let each other go, I looked at Alice again. She was quivering with excitement.

"If you'll excuse me, ladies," Jasper said, giving us a little bow before he walked away.

"Let's grab your stuff, Bella," Alice said. "We've lots to do before the public are let in. Have you eaten yet? Jasper made cornbread and there might be some left if we hurry."

...

The tent was set out like a workroom in the back of an old fashioned haberdashery store. Charlotte was sitting with a grey jacket on her lap, sewing on some brass buttons, while Alice was kneeling at my feet, adjusting the hem of the dress they'd made especially for me.

"I can't believe you did this just for one weekend," I said.

"You've got to blend in, Bella, you're one of us now," Alice said enthusiastically.

"Strictly speaking, you're both interlopers," said Charlotte, without looking up from her work. "Perhaps I should report you to the Major for spying."

"Oh, we've already played that game," Alice said, giggling.

"Is my jacket ready, Charlotte?" I turned my head to see a slim man with long, white blonde hair at the opening to the tent. I knew it was Peter, having studied his and Charlotte's photograph on Alice's blog.

My movement caught his eye and he swiftly stood to attention. "Oh, excuse me, ma'am."

"This is Alice's Bella," Charlotte said, as Peter strode forward and offered me his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Peter," I said, placing my hand in his.

There was a cheeky glint in his eye as he stepped closer. He paused for a moment, then, without warning, he wrapped his free arm around my waist and kissed me full on the mouth.

It was unexpected, but not unpleasant. Were all Southern men this forward?

"Why, thank you, Miss Bella," he said, slowly pulling away and turning back to his wife. Charlotte stood with her lips pressed firmly together, holding out his jacket for him. He slid his arms into the sleeves and left the tent.

My cheeks burned as I looked down at Alice. She had pins in her mouth, her eyes were watering and her whole body was shaking with laughter. I couldn't help but join her.

...

The morning was filled with various displays and activities. There was a mounted cavalry and military drill, an artillery demonstration and, much to my horror, the execution of a deserter.

Charlotte persuaded Alice and me to join her and model for the fashion show, after which we did our best to assist her with a quilt making demonstration.

When the battle reenactment started in the afternoon, we stood at a safe distance to watch and take photographs. I was relieved when Charlotte started to explain the sequence of events, because without her commentary I would have been clueless.

Shots were fired, plumes of smoke drifted across the field and the men ran here and there, following orders from their superiors. At the end of the battle, the ground was strewn with dead bodies and wounded soldiers and so the medical demonstrations began.

In the evening, we attended the reenactors dinner and ball in the plantation house. Though I declined several offers to dance, Charlotte eventually insisted I give her a break and dance with her cheeky husband. Peter was surprisingly patient and kind, keeping us off to one side while he taught me how to waltz. Alice and I then took turns to complete the foursome and dance as Jasper's partner in The Lancers Quadrilles.

I enjoyed myself far more than I would have ever expected.

The men returned to their own quarters and we ladies retired to Charlotte's tent, chatting and giggling like schoolgirls until we fell asleep.

...

Sunday was much the same as Saturday, but when the spectators left, the reenactors collapsed their tents, cleared the site, piled into their trucks and went home.

After we'd said goodbye to Charlotte and Peter - a process that involved more of Peter's hugging and kissing - Alice joined me in my car and we followed Jasper back to his home in Houston.


	22. Twenty-two

**Twenty-two**

Jasper's single storey home was set on a corner plot with a double garage at the rear. He parked his truck to one side of the driveway, allowing me to put my car under cover beside Alice's much smaller one.

The interior of the house was decorated in a cool, calm, neutral palette. It was hard to tell if this was a reflection of Jasper's personality or the lack of time he spent living in it. There were very few personal items on display and the only obvious sign of it being his home was the large fitted shelving unit in the living room, filled floor to ceiling with history books.

After a simple supper of bread and sliced meats, Alice showed me to one of the guest bedrooms for the night. I walked straight into the bathroom and stared longingly at the bathtub, until practicality won out and I scrubbed away the dirt from the weekend under a hot shower.

While waiting for my hair to dry, I sat on the bed and wrote about my Civil War adventure. Once I'd uploaded it to my blog, I crawled under the covers and went to sleep.

...

Jasper had already left for work by the time I emerged in the morning. Alice cooked me some eggs and bacon, and sat with me while we drank our way through a pot of coffee.

"What do you want to do today, Bella? Would you like me to show you the sights?"

After a week of driving and two nights camping outdoors, sleeping in a real bed only seemed to have added to my exhaustion.

"Honestly, Alice, I know it sounds silly when I've come all this way to see you, but I'd really like to be still for a day. Do you mind if we stay here and I do some writing?"

"Of course not. You keep your work online don't you?"

"Yes," I replied, frowning. "Why?"

"Would you print something off for me to read? You can use Jasper's computer."

Half an hour later, Alice was curled up on the sofa in the sunroom with a stack of paper in her hands. Beside her on a pillow was Edward's sketchbook, which I had marked up with post-it notes to make finding the relevant illustrations easier. I sat at Jasper's desk on the opposite side of the room with my iPad and keyboard, forming stories out of my recent discoveries.

...

"Feeling better?" Alice said.

"Yeah, much better, thanks," I replied, taking another bite out of my sandwich.

We were sitting on the grass under a tree in the backyard with a plate of sandwiches and a jug of ice cold lemonade between us. Though I'd tried to convince Alice of the delights of Marmite, she'd opted for ham and cheese instead.

Having spent almost four hours writing, I'd stopped to check my email and there in my inbox, eight hours old, was an email from Edward. He had handwritten a letter on a page in his sketchbook and taken a photograph of it to send to me.

Tears had streamed down my face as I'd read it.

 _Dear Bella,_

 _I don't know why I didn't think of this before. I can write so much faster than I can type on that fiddly little screen and the physical act of writing gives me a greater sense of connection to you than a glass screen ever could._

 _If I hurt you when we spoke last, and I'm pretty sure I did, please know I never meant to._

 _I am so grateful that you found it in you to understand me, when I could barely understand myself._

 _And now, with the pressure off and all expectations removed, I feel an even more desperate urge to talk to you than I did before. I want to consume every word you've written and then beg for more. My hand itches to pick up a pen, to open this book and fill every single page with words and pictures for you alone to see._

 _But I won't make any promises, lest I let you down again._

 _I'm trying to believe your words, Bella. I know I've relinquished my right to ask, but please could you reply. Please show me that it will all be okay._

 _I love you._

 _Edward x_

Alice had wrapped her arms around me at that point and suggested we break for lunch and get some air.

"You miss him a lot, don't you?" she said, picking up a sandwich.

"Much more than I thought I would. Maybe it would have been different if we'd not fallen in love, if we'd just stayed friends..."

"Nonsense! You were in love with him even when you were just friends."

"Yeah, I was."

"What made you fall in love with him?"

"We've talked about this before, Alice."

"Humour me."

"He brought me back to life. He made me want to be me again."

"So be you. I've been talking to _you_ for months and I've seen glimpses of _you_ on and off all weekend. Edward's not dead, Bella, and, by all accounts, he intends to come back. It's okay for you to be happy and enjoy life while you wait for him. I think he wants that for you. He may even need you to be that way."

I swallowed my mouthful of Marmite sandwich. It stuck like a hard lump in my throat, so I reached for my lemonade, taking a long, slow drink to wash it down.

I coughed to clear my throat and said quietly, "He's in a bad place right now and I'm making it worse. I'm even letting him take me there with him."

"Exactly. One of you has to stay strong."

"Thank you, Alice." I shuffled sideways until I could feel the warmth of her body up against mine.

"You miss physical contact, don't you?"

"Yeah. Somehow you knew that, didn't you, as soon as you saw me."

"You looked like you'd been starved of affection," she whispered. "Jasper noticed it before you'd even gotten out of your car."

"Did he tell Peter?"

"Oh yes." She started giggling. "But I think he may have forgotten to tell him to tone it done some."

"I kind of liked it."

"Don't ever tell him that or we'll never hear the end of it."

I took another sip of lemonade and leaned my head on Alice's shoulder. "My dad gives good hugs, but he isn't as demonstrative as Edward. Even before we became... more, he was so warm and affectionate. Just sitting beside him, feeling the heat of his body - I miss that."

"Jasper gives good hugs."

"He's lovely, Alice. I can see why you've stayed put."

"He likes you too, Bella. You've certainly gained another friend in him. The way you joined in at the weekend, your interest in everything we did, even the things you wrote on your blog on the way here - he can really relate to that. You should let him read your stories too."

Alice gathered up our glasses and plates and stood up.

"You know," she said, "you don't need Edward beside you to enjoy life. You're doing far better on your own than you'll let yourself believe."

"I know, Alice." I sighed. "I'm getting there."

"Come on. You need to put that man out of his misery."

...

 _Dear Edward,_

 _I love your letter and I love you._

 _You didn't hurt me, but you did upset me. I hated seeing you so stressed and I know that you must have been feeling very low to be asking that of me._

 _When I agreed to your request, it must have eased the tension in your body and maybe that's why, with the sudden increase in bloodflow, your brain engaged and a magical solution presented itself. Your hand doesn't itch to pick up a pen, my darling, that sensation is called pins and needles. It too will be relieved now the pressure's off and the blood courses back down your previously dead arm._

 _Yes, please read my words. I write them for you._

 _We have to believe it will be okay, or what's the point in waiting for each other. I don't even want to consider the alternatives in an email - handwritten or otherwise._

 _Your right to request a reply has been reinstated, but, my dear Edward, I only want you to write to me when you want to. I'll only reply when I can't resist you, which is pretty much all the time._

 _My tongue is in my cheek, though I'd rather it were in your mouth and you were kissing me. Actually I'd rather my tongue were elsewhere on your body, but I won't spell it out while Alice is reading over my shoulder._

 _I love you more._

 _Bella x_

"You can't send that!" said Alice.

"Why not?"

"You're making fun of him."

"I'm being me. He'll love it. He misses the real me. He needs the real me. You said so yourself."

"He's getting the tipsy you."

"Pshh, it was one shot of liquor to steady my nerves. He's never even known me tipsy and he'll be none the wiser unless you tell him."

"It's your funeral."

"I'm pressing send..."

and waiting... and waiting... and waiting... and waiting... "Aha!"

 _Dear Bella,_

 _You're funny. That's why I love you. Thank you. I needed that._

 _I love you most._

 _Edward X_

"Don't you dare say it, Bella."

"I told yoummpff."


	23. Twenty-three

**Twenty-three**

Alice showed me around Houston the next day, following her own specially designed tour of the most haunted buildings in the city. Some may have thought it odd not visit the regular tourist attractions, but I figured I would be coming back and could do that next time.

In the evening, we cooked for Jasper in his kitchen. It was blissful to use an oven after so many months cooking with a Thermos flask, and occasionally a camping stove. This was one element of conventional living I really missed.

In contrast to the garrulous Alice, Jasper was a quiet man whose very presence was calming. When he had something to say, and he could find a gap in Alice's conversation, it was always worth listening to and often plain witty.

Like Alice, he had no family with whom to celebrate Thanksgiving. Both were only children of older parents, who themselves had been only children and had passed away. Peter and Charlotte usually included Jasper in their celebrations, but, with Alice and I staying with him, he chose to have Thanksgiving in his own home for the first time since he'd bought it.

We discovered that Jasper's extensive book collection included recipe books from the mid-1800s, so Alice and I devised a special menu and went shopping for the ingredients. On the day itself, the three of us dressed up in our reenactment costumes and worked together to create a small feast.

We were thankful for new friendships and absent friends and pumpkin pie with cream.

I was also thankful I still had my dad, so I called him to tell him just that. In anticipation of my call, he'd left a special message on his answerphone saying that he was thankful for his daughter and the opportunity to go steelhead fishing with Harry and Paul.

In the late afternoon sun, we sat under a tree in the backyard and took turns reading aloud the stories I'd printed off for Alice. It was strange to hear my words spoken by others after having only heard them in my head for so long.

Jasper read through my more recent work over the long weekend and helped me refine some of the historical details. He was of the opinion that I was wasting my time with literary magazines. He thought I should collate the stories and Edward's illustrations into an anthology and start approaching publishers. Given I hadn't had any response to my most recent speculative efforts, I found myself agreeing with him.

...

Over the course of the week and the holiday weekend, I received more emails from Edward. He didn't once comment directly on my blog, but I knew he'd been reading it from the things he'd written and from the sketches that accompanied his letters - sketches that had obviously been drawn from my photographs.

One by one, I sent him the new stories I'd written and he responded with ideas for illustrations. He still didn't feel he had enough mental space to develop them into more finished drawings, but said he had to put something down on paper or he'd get pins and needles in his hand.

...

"I think I should head back to Portland before the roads get too bad," I said as I stirred milk into my morning coffee.

"Why Portland?" Alice said. "You could go anywhere."

"I know it's silly, but it still feels like home and it's where Edward will go first when he comes back. I'll probably go visit my dad for Christmas and I might explore Seattle in the New Year."

"When do you think you'll leave."

"Tomorrow. Sorry, Alice. I want to be back by the end of the month."

"Oh. Okay."

"What are you going to do?"

Alice sighed. "I don't know. I don't want to leave Jasper, but I want to travel some more. I'm just not sure yet how I'm going to make that work. And I... I think I want to take up photography."

"Wedding and portraits?"

"No, silly, art photography. I want my work on display in galleries and on living room walls, or in a giant coffee table book that people can't resist leaving open at their favourite page. You and I could make one together with my images and your words."

Alice got up and poured herself another coffee and then sat staring down at the table.

"Which way are you going to go?" she said, running her finger around the rim of her cup.

"I'm going to go back via Albuquerque."

"What's in Albuquerque?" she said, finally bringing the cup up to her lips and meeting my eyes.

I grinned at her. "An abandoned insane asylum."

She lowered her cup slowly to the table, still maintaining eye contact. Then her eyes lit up and her whole demeanour changed.

Alice was animated.

"I'm coming with you, " she said.

"You are?"

"I want to see that too. I'll come with you as far as Salt Lake City."

"Other than the asylum, I don't plan on sightseeing."

"That's okay, I can sightsee on the way back."

"But Jasper?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Don't you want me to come?"

"Oh, I'd love to have you with me."

"Good, because Jasper will be fine. I'm sure once I've explained it to him, he'll want me to go so he can look forward to me coming back."

...

We set out the next morning before Jasper had to leave for work.

"I know you'll stay in touch with Alice, Bella, but I wouldn't mind if you want to drop me a line occasionally," he said as I snuggled against his chest.

"Thank you, Jasper, for everything." I kissed his cheek and climbed into my car to give him and Alice some privacy. Then, as soon as she was bouncing toward her metallic blue Rabbit, I started my engine and rolled down the driveway.

We drove all day, stopping twice at rest stops to stretch our legs, use the facilities and eat some of the food Jasper had packed for us. He'd gotten up extra early that morning to fill one of my thermos flasks with fresh coffee and another with reheated pinto beans from the previous night's meal. There was cold, fried chicken and almost-fresh cornbread, and two slices of pecan pie that he said he'd found lurking in his freezer.

We parked side by side at a Walmart in Lubbock and went into the store to buy oat groats, bread, cheese and fruit for our next day's journey. Alice also bought herself two wide necked Thermos flasks before we asked the manager for permission to stay overnight.

Alice hadn't tried Thermos cooking before, so I gave her a lesson in my car on how to make overnight oatmeal. We finished up the remains of Jasper's food and sat for a while, writing short blog entries and checking emails on our phones, then we ran back into the store to use restroom one more time before bed.

It took me a while to readjust to my air mattress after a week in a bed and I wondered how Alice was faring, curled up on the back seat of her Rabbit.

...

Albuquerque was a five hour drive from Lubbock and I probably would have driven non-stop if Alice hadn't called me, just short of Santa Rosa, asking for a coffee break.

Our options were limited on this stretch of the journey, but we made do with a fast food restaurant. It wasn't the best choice for coffee, but at least we could update our blogs and check in with our loved ones, using the free wifi.

My dad had let me be once I was safely in Houston at Jasper's house, but now I was on the road again, I knew he'd be worrying. He was either at home or at his desk, because he posted a comment on my blog within seconds of it going live.

Then I got a smiley face from Alice. Two if I counted the one across the table. Naturally, I reciprocated.

...

Growing up with a police chief for a father, I had never consciously broken the law, but that all changed after Alice and I had parked our cars within walking distance of the abandoned Sandia Ranch Sanatorium.

I knew the owners of the property lived close by and took trespassing very seriously. Numerous ghost hunters, teenage revellers and graffiti artists had entered it illegally over the years, mostly on Halloween. It had been the venue for many a drug deal and even a shooting.

Camera in hand, Alice was the first to climb through the decorative hole in the wall and I followed right behind her. The grounds surrounding the dilapidated building were a mess. Many of the trees appeared to have been snapped in half, leaving jagged trunks sticking up out of the ground.

The building itself was desolate, with collapsed ceilings, peeling paint, missing plaster, exposed pipework, and shattered glass beneath every window. We wandered down long corridors and in and out of the rooms, Alice taking many more photographs than me, while I filled her in on what I knew about its history.

The insane asylum had been known for its use of electroshock therapy and for performing lobotomies on its patients. The many rumours surrounding its history included that of Doctor Samuel, who had stored the dead bodies from his botched lobotomies in the crawl spaces of the boiler room until he could dispose of them. He had later ended his own life when he hung himself.

Visitors to the site had reported a large, black figure or cloud following them through the building and it was assumed that this was the ghost of the not-so-good doctor.

We stayed just long enough to see everything we wanted to see, then hurried back the way we came, through the wall and back to our cars. I breathed a giant sigh of relief that we hadn't got caught.

...

"They had dogs?"

I winced at the pitch of her voice. "Yes, Alice, dirty great Doberman Pinchers, but it's fine. We didn't get caught."

"I need more coffee."

"I'm cutting you off, or you won't sleep tonight. Come on, get your laptop out and upload those photos. I need to tell Edward about the asylum and I want him to see all our pictures."


	24. Twenty-four

**Twenty-four**

"I like sitting with you like this," I said, packing up my iPad.

"I can be quiet and still when I want to be." Alice smiled, turning her laptop to show me the image of Sandia Ranch she'd been working on. The original photograph had been lit by sunlight streaming in through the broken window. Now, the light was more sinister, leaving an ominous, dark shadow in the corner of the room.

"That's really creepy." I could feel goosebumps on my arms and had an urge to open up my iPad again. I reached for my notebook and hurriedly scribbled down a few sentences.

"You know, Alice, you and Edward are the only people I've ever met that I can be in the same space with and still write. It's like my brain works with you, but with everyone else it just goes numb."

"You and Edward both feed off each other," Alice said, closing down her laptop.

"He inspires me and I seem to inspire him right back. It's helps that we both get excited about the same things."

"Yeah, each other." Alice sniggered.

I felt the warmth flood my cheeks. Thinking about how excited he could make me in that way was something I hadn't allowed myself to do in quite a while.

Once Alice had retreated to her car to call Jasper, I lay back on my mattress and looked at photographs of Edward on my phone and, as if he could feel me thinking of him all those miles away, my phone vibrated with an incoming message. He hadn't used this method of communication in a while.

The message was a photograph of himself, hunched over a sketchbook with his brow furrowed in concentration. Another picture came through with him in almost the exact same position, but this time he was looking straight at the camera with the most dazzling of smiles on his clean shaven face.

 _Mom said to send you these. She says "Thank you for making her son happy again."_

Before I could reply, a third image arrived - the drawing he'd been working on. A chill ran down my spine and I scrambled out of my car in my socked feet and knocked on Alice's window.

"Alice!"

I heard her muffled voice telling Jasper she'd call him back, then she cracked the door open.

"Bella? What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Look at this," I said, handing her my phone.

She gasped. "I haven't even uploaded that one to my blog yet. How the hell did he know to pick the exact same photo as...? Can he read minds?"

I snorted. "Not at this distance. I have to text him back, Alice. Goodnight."

"Night, Bella."

Back in my car, I toyed with the idea of video calling Edward, but that hadn't gone so well for us the last time. Instead I sent a long text message, telling him that he had drawn from the same photograph that Alice had been working on only an hour or so earlier and his interpretation of the image was a carbon copy of her finished piece.

His response was instantaneous.

 _That's freaky! Did you have a good day?_

 _The best. I broke the law and lived to tell the tale._

 _I love the tales you tell. Write one for my illustration._

 _Already half done. Wanna be in it?_

 _I'll sit this one out, thanks. I like my brain where it is._

 _Who said you'd be the patient?_

 _I'm too nice to be the doctor._

 _True. I miss you._

 _Me too. Go to sleep, I'll meet you in your dreams._

 _That could be embarrassing with Alice parked a foot away. Night. x_

 _Love you. Night. X_

...

Another five hour drive, broken only by a toilet stop and a detour, to stand for five minutes on the Four Corners monument while another tourist took our picture, and then we arrived in Monticello.

We made ourselves lunch at a truck stop in the centre of the city and filled up on gas before setting off again.

I felt bad for making Alice drive at my pace, but we were both feeling pretty grotty and the incentive of a hot shower in a Salt Lake City fitness centre spurred her on.

For our last night together, we treated ourselves to dinner in an Italian restaurant a few blocks further on. The food was so good, we ordered an extra calzone to go so we could split it between us and eat it cold for breakfast.

Back in the fitness centre parking lot, I said goodnight to Alice and posted a short blog update.

I checked my email to find a string of new comments from Katrina, the women I'd met in Denver. She'd been away for several days visiting her older brother and was catching up on what she'd missed.

Paul had also sent me a message, saying he would call me once I was back in Oregon. Like Dad, he'd left me alone, while I had been with company.

...

Alice squeezed me tightly the next morning and we both smiled watery smiles as I set off on the last leg of my journey. I drove for four hours straight to Mountain Home, where I had to stop before my bladder burst, then on to Baker City for some gas and some food.

I rummaged through my clothing crate for a hoodie and sat in the passenger seat, reclining it so I could sleep for a couple of hours. Then, after another visit to the restrooms to splash water on my face, I got back on the road.

...

The parking lot of the fitness centre in northeast Portland was deserted when I arrived there close to midnight.

Following the routine I'd adopted on my travels, I put my phone and bank cards into my waterproof pouch and tucked my purse out of sight under the passenger seat of my car. I grabbed my backpack and took out my membership card, then fetched some clean clothes and my flip flops from the trunk. Adding my car key to the pouch around my neck, I hurried inside the building before I got too cold.

The women's locker room was a little messier than I'd seen it before, with used towels littering the benches and the floor. The staff must have been long gone.

I found a clear space and stripped off my dirty clothes, putting them on top of my sneakers and backpack inside a locker. Slipping my feet into my flip flops, I snatched a fresh towel from the stack and took my pick of the empty shower stalls.

The hot water soothed my muscles, which were aching after so many hours behind the wheel. I stood under the shower head for an age before finally reaching for the towel. I rough dried my hair and then my body, wrapping the towel around me to walk back into the locker room and get dressed.

There was a pile of clothes on one of the benches that I was certain had not been there when I came in. I looked up at my locker, shocked to see the door wide open and only my shoes still inside. My backpack was on the floor beside my dirty clothes. Did I not lock it properly? Had my things fallen out?

Frowning, I walked over to pick up my things, but before I even had a chance to bend down, I was slammed face first into the wall of lockers.

Rough hands tugged at my towel and I was forced forward some more, the things in my pouch digging into my chest.

His hands were all over me, his breath hot on my neck, but not one word left his mouth. As I attempted to calm my breathing and assess the situation, I realised with horror that he was naked too. I could feel his hard penis pressing against my ass.

When I'd received my acceptance to a college out of state, my father immediately assigned one of his men to teach me self defence. Deputy Mark took his job seriously, working with me for weeks, setting up an array of potential attack scenarios until he was confident in my reactions. He even taught me a few things a police officer probably shouldn't show an ordinary citizen.

So, with my adrenalin surging, I fought back with everything I had. Catching my assailant by surprise, I soon had him sprawled on the locker room floor, cupping his balls in agony.

I ran.

It was raining outside, so I doubted anyone would be around to witness a naked women in flip flops, trying unsuccessfully to pull a cord over her head without getting it tangled in her wet hair.

By the time I'd retrieved the car key from my pouch, my hands were shaking so violently from fear and the cold that I dropped it twice before I finally got it in the lock.

But I was too late.

Once again I found myself pressed up against cold metal as he hauled me to one side and pushed me down onto the hood. Pulling at the cord around my neck until the pouch was rammed tight against my throat, he bent his body over mine to keep me in place and slipped his hand between us to undo his pants.

With the wind knocked out of me, my throat constricted and my adrenalin exhausted, I was immobilised with fear.

I'd travelled all those miles to see Alice and all those miles back again and I hadn't once been even hassled or harassed. And here, back in the city I called home, I was being assaulted in the worst possible way.


	25. Twenty-five

**Twenty-five**

The parking lot was suddenly lit by the headlamps of an incoming vehicle, which screeched to a halt several yards from my car.

The driver jumped out, slammed his door behind him and shouted, "Hey!"

My assailant flung me to the ground, snatched the key out of my car door, jumped into the driver's seat and sped out of the lot, narrowly missing my saviour.

"Miss, can I come closer?" His voice was gentle and warm.

I bent my legs up and wrapped my arms around them, ducking my head to make myself as small as possible.

He crouched down about an arm's length away from me and I turned my head slightly so I could look at him. He was big and broad, much bigger than my assailant had been, and vaguely familiar.

"Here," he said, pulling his T-shirt over his head and holding it out to me. "Would you like to put on my shirt?"

I unfolded one arm and reached for it, feeling relieved when he turned away long enough for me to put it on. The T-shirt was damp from the rain, but warm from his body and big enough to cover what I needed it to.

"Bella?" he said "Is that you?"

I lifted my head up and took a good look at his face.

"Emmett?" I didn't recognise my own voice, it sounded so small.

"Oh fuck, Bella, please tell me I got here in time."

I nodded, biting my lip to hold in my impending breakdown.

"We need to get you inside out of the rain and call the police. I'm going to pick you up, okay?"

I stared at him blankly.

"Bella, is it okay if I pick you up and get you inside?"

"Yes," I whispered.

He scooped me up off the ground as if I weighed nothing and carried me across the lot and into the reception area, putting me down on one of the leather sofas.

He remained standing while he pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and made the call to the police station, then he sat down beside me, leaving about a foot of space between us.

"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked.

"Not yet." I reached across the gap for the hand resting on his thigh and we sat there in silence, waiting.

The two officers that attended both knew Emmett through his work as a fireman. He quickly informed them that I was his friend and then went on to describe how he had found me in the parking lot.

I then tried to recall as many details as could, but neither Emmett nor I could give a good description of my assailant. For the most part, he'd been behind me and, when I'd run out of the locker room, I hadn't stopped to get a good look at his face.

"Where are your clothes, ma'am," one of the officers asked.

"In the locker room."

"Can you show us?"

We stood just inside the door. Both officers agreed that taking fingerprints in there was a futile exercise, so they allowed me some privacy to put on my clothes and collect my things.

Emmett stayed in the room with me with his back turned, humming softly while I dressed in my dirty clothes. I would want another shower before I put on the only clean clothes I had left.

I sat down on a bench and went through my backpack. Nothing appeared to be missing, but my iPad screen was riddled with cracks.

Staring into the bag, I felt a wave of nausea come over me. Where was Edward's sketchbook?

"Bella? What's wrong?" Emmett moved to kneel in front of me.

"Edward's sketchbook! I left it in my car." I couldn't contain my distress anymore. I fell into Emmett's open arms and sobbed against his chest.

When I had regained my composure, I remembered something I should have told the police officers, so we hurried back out to find them.

"My dad has a tracking device on my car," I said. "I need to call him."

"Do you still have your phone, ma'am."

I pulled the pouch out from under my T-shirt and removed my phone, relieved to find it hadn't suffered the same fate as my iPad.

My dad didn't answer at home, or on his cell phone, so I tried the station, only to be told that he was on an overnight fishing trip and almost certainly out of mobile reception.

"I can't get hold of him," I said, tears pooling in my eyes.

"What's your father's name?"

"Charlie Swan. He's Chief of Police in Forks, Washington."

The officer stepped outside and used his radio.

"They're sending someone to find him immediately," he said on his return.

...

"Emmett, what were you doing at the gym so late at night?" I asked quietly as he drove us the short distance to his house.

"I had a row with Rosalie and needed to burn off some steam."

"Will she be alright with -"

"Bella, right now your needs are more important to both of us than me leaving the toilet seat up." He grinned and winked at me and I felt the faint glimmer of a smile on my face.

"Thank you, Emmett, I don't know what I'd -"

"All in a day's work for me, Bella, though it's the first time I've rescued somebody I know."

He parked his Jeep on the driveway, jumped out and came around to help me down just as Rosalie opened the front door. As soon as we were inside and the door was shut, she put her arm gingerly around my shoulders.

"I'll take care of her now, Em," she said as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"Sorry, Rosie," he muttered. "Won't do it again."

She whispered something in his ear and led me upstairs to the bathroom.

"I've put towels and some nightwear on the vanity, Bella. Help yourself to toiletries. Oh, and don't lock the door. I'll stay right outside so you can call me if you need me."

I stripped off my dirty clothes once more and looked at my myself in the mirror. I had bruises forming all over my body, but most noticeable were the ones on my chest, neck and face.

Standing under the water, I was too numb to cry any more tears. I'd always thought I would scrub myself raw under such circumstances, but somehow I didn't feel the need to. He hadn't had a chance to do more than rough me up. He hadn't kissed me or licked me or put his mouth on my body. He hadn't penetrated me in any way or even got near to the point of ejaculation. He didn't even speak. I had been extremely lucky to have escaped the level of violation he probably had in store for me.

I dried myself slowly and pulled on the soft T-Shirt, underwear and leggings that Rosalie had put out for me to wear. As I opened the bathroom door, she was there to take my hand and lead me into a dimly lit room.

"Drink this," she said, passing me a mug of something hot. I sat down on the huge bed and sipped at the sweet liquid until it was all gone, then she lifted the covers for me to lay down.

"Rosalie? Emmett won't tell Edward will he? I don't want to worry him."

"Not tonight," she replied, switching off the bedside lamp and climbing in behind me.

...

I was alone in bed when I woke up. The bedside clock was showing it was almost midday. I stumbled into the bathroom to relieve myself and splash some water on my face, then went downstairs, heading toward the voices I could hear in the kitchen.

"She needs to tell him," I heard Emmett say. "He's already left a ton of messages on her phone."

"She'll tell him when she's ready, son." I knew that voice. "And if she can't, I'll do it."

"Dad?" I said, stepping warily into the kitchen.

"Bella!" My dad got up from the table and held his arms open for me. I wrapped mine around his waist, but he didn't move. "I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"You won't." He was exceedingly gentle and it did hurt, but I didn't tell him.

He pulled back until his hands were resting lightly on my shoulders. "The Portland Police Department found your car at an old warehouse on the outskirts of the city. I'm sorry, but the bastard had torn everything open. The entire contents of your car was on the ground and, as you know, it was raining."

My stomach twisted. There was only one thing in that car that mattered to me in that moment and the rain would have ruined it.

"He emptied your wallet too, but the officer told me you'd kept your bank cards with you." I nodded. "Good girl. How much cash did you have?"

"Less than forty dollars." I sniffed.

"We can't get the car back just yet, so we'll have to wait to see if anything else is missing. I'm sorry."

"Okay." I swallowed. My dad pulled out a chair for me and I sat down at the table with him and Emmett.

Rosalie poured me a glass of orange juice and a mug of black coffee and then started plating up the pancakes and bacon she'd been cooking. Obviously, no one else had eaten breakfast yet either.

...

Edward wasn't the only one to have left messages on my phone. Alice was also worried when she hadn't heard from me. It was easy enough to put her off with a short text saying I was fine and would call tomorrow, but I doubted I would get away with that with Edward.

"I don't know what to do, Dad."

"Would you want Edward to keep something like this from you?" I looked down at the phone in my lap and shook my head. "Do you want me to tell him, Bella."

I shook my head again and sent a text asking Edward if he could talk. In seconds my phone was buzzing. Reversing the camera so that he would see a view of Rosalie's living room instead of my face, I accepted the video call.

"Hello, Edward." It was so good to see his face again.

"Bella, what are you playing at? Why can't I see you?"

"Um, I did something stupid, but I'm okay now."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my dad frowning at me.

"Did you get your hair cut?" He looked as if that would upset him. If only it were that simple.

"No. I went into the fitness centre near Emmett's house for a shower. It was late and... and I thought the place was deserted and..."

His face paled. "Let me see you, Bella."

"I can't say the... should have emailed..." I was suddenly gasping for air.

"Give me the phone, Bella." Dad held out his hand.

I passed it over and quickly covered my face as he asked Edward how to right the camera, then, in a tone I'd heard him use many times professionally, he began to relay the whole story.

Clearly Emmett had told him every word I'd said last night, in addition to the part he'd been involved in. My dad knew everything and now so did Edward.

I let my mind drift while I stared at the pattern on the wallpaper. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw my dad briefly turn the screen of the phone to face me, just moments before he said goodbye.

"You can Skype him tomorrow on your old laptop," he said, handing my phone back to me.

"Oh," I said, not really paying much attention. "Did you bring it with you?"

"No, Bella. I'm taking you home with me."


	26. Twenty-six

**Twenty-six**

I slept through most of the journey to Forks under a blanket in the front seat of my dad's police cruiser. When we got in, I climbed the stairs to my old room, got into bed and went straight back to sleep again.

Dad woke me in the morning with some Tylenol, a bottle of water and some buttered toast.

"You're not getting out of bed until that's all gone," he said, sitting in the rocking chair across the room.

"What if I need to pee?"

"Hold it." His mustache twitched as he tried to maintain a stern face and I snorted. I could definitely do with some levity about now.

I swallowed the tablets and worked my way slowly through the toast and water and only then was I allowed out of bed to shower.

The bruises had darkened since I looked in Rosalie's bathroom mirror. Perhaps it would have been better if I'd let Edward see me sooner rather than later.

After my shower, I opened the small duffle bag Rosalie had packed for me. She had washed my dirty clothes and to them added a couple of her own long sleeved T-shirts, another pair of leggings, some socks and a brand new pack of cotton underwear.

I hadn't changed out of my borrowed sleep clothes before I left Portland, so, with the spare clothes I had in my backpack, I had enough comfortable outfits to keep me going. They were certainly preferable to the smart office wear I had stored in the wardrobe of my childhood bedroom.

I put on the clean leggings and a T-shirt and went through my dresser to find a drapey, black cardigan that I used to keep at work and a silk scarf to cover the bruises around my neck.

Downstairs, Dad was cooking bacon and eggs and coffee. The smell was making my stomach rumble in anticipation. I hadn't expected to feel so hungry.

After we'd eaten, Dad opened a drawer and took out an envelope addressed to me. Inside was a copy of the magazine that contained my first ever published short story. With trembling hands, I flipped through until I found my name in print and stared at it. There was an illustration below the title that captured the feel of the story very well.

I felt my dad's hand rest gently on my shoulder. "I'm really proud of you, Bella," he said. "My copy is being passed around the staff at the station."

He left the room and returned with my old laptop, setting it down on the kitchen table in front of me pointedly. It was a less than subtle reminder that I had an important video call to make. With my phone about to run out of battery and my iPad screen crazed, I had no choice but to use it. I put the magazine to one side, turned it on and waited for it to boot up.

Once he'd cleared away the breakfast things, Dad made another pot of coffee then sat opposite me at the table, reading his newspaper and spying on his daughter.

After checking the time in London, I decided to wait a little longer to contact Edward. There was something I wanted to get out of my system first.

I wrote two pieces, both of which could have been potential diary entries for my blog. One was completely fabricated, an uneventful end to my journey back to Portland without any mention of the attack, and the other was a detached but detailed version of the truth. I wasn't sure which one I would post, if I posted anything at all, but I felt better for getting the words out.

Using a substantial amount of the second piece, I drafted an email to Alice. I added my dad's home phone number for her to contact me, but held off from actually sending it. I had to talk to Edward first and now I felt ready.

I sent him a text message and waited, staring at the laptop screen and sipping my coffee.

...

Edward looked tired and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You're looking a little more like yourself today," he said. "The bruising is more noticeable, but your eyes are much brighter."

"He showed you, didn't he?"

"Yes. I insisted. I needed to see you."

"Are you angry with me?"

"I'm fucking livid, Bella, but at the bastard that hurt you, not you. I should never have left you on your own."

"I've been fine on my own until now," I said tersely. "Hell, I travelled all the way to Houston on my own without attracting so much as a cheesy chat up line and I'm always very conscious of my own safety."

I held up the palm of my hand to Edward, closed my eyes and took a deep breath before continuing.

"I'd been driving all day, Edward. I was too tired to think straight and I made a stupid mistake. All I wanted was a hot shower, but it could have waited." I dropped my head into my hands. "I should have waited."

"Look at me, Bella," he said softly. I raised my head. "It's not your fault."

"I know."

"Do you? Do you really?"

"I know I'm not to blame for what he did to me, or almost did, but this whole thing could have been avoided, if only I'd been more careful."

"Maybe, maybe not, but you didn't do anything to warrant that attack, did you?" He looked me in the eye, waiting until I shook my head. "Emmett told me he's never seen the gym that quiet before."

"How often does he go to the gym at midnight?"

"About once a month."

"Ah. I don't think I told him enough how grateful I am."

"He said all he did was turn up. No one owes him anything,"

"But I do."

"We both do."

I fiddled with the hem of my t-shirt. "There's something else I need to tell you. I won't be able to get my car or my stuff back for a few days and I don't know what state it will be in."

He frowned. "None of that stuff matters, Bella."

"I left your sketchbook in my car and he threw all my things out in the rain," I said, wiping at the tears forming in my eyes.

"You're really upset about that, aren't you?"

"Yes." I sniffed.

"Please don't be. I'll redraw it all for you when I come home or I could work them up as proper illustrations for your stories."

"You could?"

"I will. Listen, Bella, I talked about this with Charlie yesterday. I can come back right now. You only have to ask."

"But you have a contract to finish."

"The contract isn't the issue, Bella, it's Dad. He's still improving, but has a way to go yet. He's very unsteady on his feet and has had quite a few falls. Mom reckons she could manage for a few days or we could get someone in to -"

"Don't, Edward, I can't ask you to do that. Stay with your parents. My dad is taking good care of me and he'll probably enjoy having me home."

"That's what he told me, but I could be on a flight tomorrow."

"But you'd have to go back again, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I would."

"I want you to come back and never leave."

He sighed, running the fingers of one hand through his hair. "But I can't do that for a few more weeks, Bella, and I want-"

He turned his head suddenly to the side and muttered something.

"I'm really sorry. I have to go help Mom get Dad into bed."

I snorted.

Edward raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny?" he said, smiling.

"Just me being inappropriate. My emotions are all over the place. Go - while I'm laughing."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Love you."

"Love you too," I said to the blank screen.

...

Alice called that evening when she'd picked up my email. I cried for the first five minutes while she tried to soothe me.

"I've used fitness centre facilities plenty of times late at night," she said. "Sometimes it's unavoidable and where else would you go that's any safer when everywhere else is shut?"

"Thanks, Alice. That makes me feel a little better."

"Do you think he followed you in off the street, or was he waiting inside already?" she asked tentatively.

"I've no idea, Alice. There weren't any other cars in the lot and no sign of anyone inside, not until, well, you know. I suspect he saw me go in and seized the opportunity to prey on a lone woman." I shuddered. "Who knows how long he was watching me in the shower."

"That's just... I'm sorry I even made you think of that."

"It hadn't just crossed my mind, Alice, believe me."

"Will Edward be coming back now?"

"He would if I asked him to, but he'd have to go back to London again almost immediately. His contract isn't up yet, though he said that's not an issue, and his parents still need him."

"But you need him."

"I want him to come home to stay. I'm not sure I could bear to watch him leave again."

"Oh, Bella. Will you stay with your dad until he comes back?"

"I don't know. I was feeling so positive when I left you in Salt Lake City. I was happy and motivated and determined to keep on writing. I don't want to lose that."

"Then don't."

"Is it really that simple?"

"I've never experienced anything like what you've been through, so I can't say what I would or wouldn't do in your shoes, but it could have been so much worse, Bella. Don't let what did happen stop you from doing what you want to do with your life."

"Easier said than done."

"I'm sorry. I just can't stand the thought of you giving up. Please keep fighting."

I yawned. "I think I need to get to bed now. Do you mind if I let you go?"

"Go and sleep. I'll be here on the other end of the phone any time you want to talk."

...

Curled up in bed, I went over my conversation with Alice in my head until I finally succumbed to sleep.


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Twenty-seven**

The visitors started coming as soon as my dad returned to work.

Deputy Mark dropped by first on his way home from his night shift. He held my hand over the kitchen table as we talked. He didn't offer platitudes, but did suggest I might like to retrain with him to prove to myself that I wasn't weak, just extremely unlucky that my assailant had caught up with me after I'd knocked him down.

The next day, Harry's wife, Sue, came by with a few groceries, something she'd done for Dad since my mom left. She made us both some lunch and then helped me prepare a lasagne for dinner. She left five minutes before my dad came home.

Paul arrived on the third day. I hadn't seen him in years. He looked really good, a bit older, of course, and a little less lean, but otherwise he was exactly how I remembered him.

He told me to get a coat - I borrowed one of my dad's - and took me for a walk in the forest out back. He didn't push or pry, he just walked beside me, letting me breath in the crisp, cold air and feel the fine drizzle on my face. It was just what I needed.

As we were returning to the house, he finally broke the silence.

"Charlie said your iPad needs repairing."

"Yes. The screen is crazed."

"Would you like me to take it to the store in Tacoma for you? Or I could drive you there, if you like."

"I don't know."

"I looked it up. We'd have to book an appointment."

"I'd like to try, Paul, but I don't know how I'll be around people."

"Not a problem. I'm free on Friday, we'll go then."

...

After another day stuck in the house, this time with Dad and Harry watching the fishing channel, a day out in Tacoma was looking very attractive.

I spent most of the three hour drive looking out of the window and listening to the radio. Paul didn't seem to mind, he just hummed along whenever he felt like it.

As we were crossing the Hood Canal Bridge, I remembered something I'd been meaning to ask him.

"Why did we lose touch?" I said.

"I don't know really. I think we both just got busy with life, you know. I vaguely remember lots of missed calls and a string of conversations via answerphone messages. I'm sorry, for my part."

"So am I. Were you really intending to come back to Forks or was it just for your dad?"

"I was in a serious relationship for a few years. I wanted out of the city and to start a family. She didn't want either. I loved her, so I stayed, but then she left me anyway for one of our coworkers. I had to watch her with him at work everyday and I didn't handle it very well.

"Did my dad know about this?"

"Oh yes." He laughed. "My dad told Harry and you know how Harry and Charlie gossip like old women when they go fishing. He got in touch and told me to apply for Steve's job. And then Dad went and had a heart attack, so I came home a couple of months early."

"So you're single?"

"I am, but I do have my eye on someone," he said, giving me a sideways glance."

"Who?"

"The Chief's daughter."

"Huh?" I stared at him, my mouth opening and closing, while he kept his eyes fixed on the road in front of us.

"You got a problem with that, Bella?" he said, turning briefly to look at me.

"Um..."

He laughed. "I'm just messing with you. I know your heart is taken and in any case, I'm not that kind of guy. Do you remember Rachel Black?"

"Ah, of course, Billy's daughter. The girl you crushed on all through high school." I started giggling, relieved that things weren't about to get awkward between us.

"Thanks for that little reminder." He leaned over just enough to nudge me with his shoulder. "She's looking after Billy while her brother finally goes away to college. We're just friends at the moment, but I'd like to think there's a possibility of something more one day."

"Well then, I wish you luck."

Paul was very protective as we wandered around Tacoma, waiting for my iPad to be repaired. I felt quite self conscious about the bruises on my face and was aware of the occasional glance from a passer-by that lasted just a little too long, but Paul maintained physical contact at all times, either with an arm around my waist or a hand in mine.

I found myself relaxing more and more as the day went on, but I was tired out by the time we picked up my iPad and fell asleep on the journey home.

...

Edward continued to talk to me using Skype at the same time each day - or evening for him. Every day he offered to come and each time I refused him until it started to become a joke between us.

He kept on sending his photographed notes and letters. Some were romantic, some were serious, and some were downright silly, leaving me crying with laughter.

I wrote back, but without an adventure to write about or a story to share, my emails were short and unimaginative, to me at least.

I'd gone through my notebook several times and looked at the photos of the Sandia Ranch Sanitorium on Alice's blog, trying to find the inclination to write, but the words just wouldn't come.

...

Though the Portland Police department were able to find some fingerprints on my steering wheel, there were no matches on their database. That particular fitness centre location had no form of security cameras, not even in the parking lot. With so little to go on, they would never find the man that had attacked me.

Twelve days after the attack, Dad and Mark went to fetch my car back from Portland and, after they'd brought all my possessions into the living room, Mark took the car away to be serviced and detailed.

I looked at everything laid out on the living room floor, noticing straight away that my food crate and cooler were empty. Even the remaining jars of Marmite had gone.

"Where Edward's sketchbook, Dad?" I asked.

"It's in a bit of a state, Bella." He opened a hold-all, pulled out the black, leather bound book and handed it to me.

I sunk down on the sofa. The cover was mottled and battered and I could see just how wet the paper had got by the cockled edges. I covered my mouth with my hand as I opened it on my lap, turning the pages one by one. It wasn't quite as bad as I'd feared, but it must have landed open on the ground, because one double page spread was completely ruined.

And there was something missing - the loose page he'd torn out of his other sketchbook for me, the drawing that had rekindled my interest in writing ghost stories, the drawing of the Wolf Creek vampire.

Dad sat down beside me and pulled me into his chest as I sobbed.

We worked through each box and bag, putting all my clothes and bedding into piles to be laundered and my cooking equipment on the kitchen table to be washed.

My camping stove was intact, but most of the fuel cells had been rendered useless by the rain. There were dents in some of the cookware and one of the Thermos flasks, the plastic of my car kettle was cracked and the Perspex on the wind-up lantern had been shattered.

I had bought new chargers for my phone and iPad in Tacoma, so I ditched the potentially rain damaged ones.

On the whole, there was very little that needed replacing, other than my larder, but when I mentioned doing that to my dad he was horrified.

"You can't possibly be considering living in your car again after what you've been through!"

"It's my home."

"This is your home." His face began to go red as he turned away, clenching his fists.

"Dad!" I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. "I can't let that... that..."

"Bastard," he said with menace.

"Yes. I can't let that bastard stop me from living my life the way I want to. I'm not ready to give up when I've come so far. While I still have enough money to live on, I want to follow my dream and to do that I have to be writing."

"But you can write here, Bella, where you're safe."

"I can't, Dad. I've tried. I haven't been able to write more than a few paragraphs since I got here."

"You've been recovering from an assault!"

"An assault from which I was mercifully saved before it got much worse. I could have been attacked any number of times since I left home to go to college. Would you have asked me to stop studying or to give up my job, or leave my apartment?"

"I don't like it, Bella."

"I know, Dad, and for that I'm sorry."

...

Christmas was a simple affair.

Dad and I got our small tree out of the loft on Christmas Eve and we decorated it together. Before breakfast the next morning, we sat beside the tree and exchanged a few small presents.

There was an extra package from Edward, containing a little, dark glass jar with a bright yellow lid. Apparently he'd asked Emmett to send it to my dad at the police station.

When I thought he might be waking up, I used my iPad to video call him. He was still in bed and looked rumpled and delicious. We had agreed not to do presents, but I couldn't scold him for the jar of Marmite.

As soon as we'd said goodbye, he sent me a message with a photograph of a new drawing of the Wolf Creek vampire. It was an almost exact replica of the one I'd lost. I wished I could have him in my arms and never let him go.

Dad and I had dinner in La Push at Harry and Sue's house. Paul and his dad joined us in the afternoon, then I drove my tipsy father home.

With the New Year approaching, I took Mark up on his offer for some self defence training. Paul had the dubious honour of playing the role of assailant and Mark shouted out praise for me every time Paul let out a string of expletives.

I was surprised at how much anger I'd been suppressing and how good it felt to get it out. After a few bouts, Paul covered his groin and begged me to dial it back a bit, because he wanted to have kids one day.

Mark had been right. The session left me feeling strong and confident.

...

On the second of January, I looked in my rear view mirror and watched my dad wiping his eyes as I drove away, heading for Seattle.


	28. Twenty-eight

**Twenty-eight**

I arrived in Seattle around midday, going straight to Pike Place Market to buy some food for lunch. It wasn't my first visit, so I knew anything I bought would be an extravagance, but I justified the expense to myself by calling it research.

Many restless spirits were said to haunt the marketplace, but the one that appealed to me most was Princess Angeline, the daughter of the Duwamish Chief of Seattle. She had refused to leave her home when her tribe was ordered out to the reservations in the mid-1800s. After her death, in 1896, the market was built on the site of her old cabin, but it appeared that even in death she was stubborn, as there had been many sightings of her ghost over the years.

Wandering through the stalls, I failed to spot anything out of the ordinary, but did succeed in buying some local honey, butter and cheese, and some Earl Grey shortbread and a sourdough baguette from my favourite bakery.

I returned to my car to eat lunch and store the remainder of my purchases, then moved on to the Central Library. I'd been a little in love with this building since its construction in my early twenties and would have made it my new home from home now if it wasn't for the parking fees.

I found an open desk and, for a couple of hours, reviewed the drafted and unfinished stories from my trip to Houston. I also drew up a schedule of work in the hope that it would help me to start writing again.

The real incentive came in the form of an email from the editor of the quarterly magazine, in which I had my one published story. In the last week of December, having had no response to my other submissions, I had forwarded her the presumably rejected stories. It was all I could do to contain my excitement in the quiet of the library, because she had selected two of those for the March edition.

Around four in the afternoon, I drove a few blocks north to the nearest fitness centre. The parking lot was across the street from the gym on a busy junction. Feeling uneasy about staying there overnight, I checked the other locations on my phone, deciding to drive out of the city to Bellevue.

The lights in the parking lot weren't on yet, but, nevertheless, I parked right underneath one, between the entrance to the fitness centre and the exit to the road. I watched people coming and going, all the while trying to calm my racing heart and talk myself out of driving back to Forks.

According to the class schedule on the gym website, there was a yoga session starting in twenty minutes, if I could only get myself into the locker room to get changed.

Steeling myself, I opened the car door and got out. It was extremely cold outside and likely to get colder as the evening went on. I was glad I'd listened to my dad in Newton's Outfitters and bought an extra sleeping bag and blanket.

My hand shook as I opened the door to the locker room. The were a few women in there in various stages of undress, but no one took any notice of me as I hurriedly changed my clothes. I took the yoga class, but didn't shower or change clothes afterward. Instead, I used the restrooms to wash my face and brush my teeth.

It was dark by the time I came out of the building. The lot was still busy and the area around my car was flooded with light, so I sat in the front seat, preparing my oatmeal as discreetly as I could with window cracked open for the steam to escape. Once that was done, I climbed into the back and raided my larder, eating the last piece of shortbread before getting into a cocoon of sleeping bags and blankets.

Though he would be asleep, I sent a text message to Edward to let him know I was okay, then sent another to my dad, who was no doubt tracking my every movement.

I lay listening to the sounds around me. The constant background hum of traffic was only broken by the much louder noises of gym patrons coming in and out of the parking lot. Occasionally I heard bits of conversation as people either greeted or said goodbye to each other, but I was so exhausted by my day, it soon faded away as I fell asleep.

...

A car door must have been slammed shut nearby, because I awoke with a jolt as the sun was coming up, just before eight in the morning. I was on alert, listening to heavy footsteps going past my car toward the gym. I sat up and looked around, noticing immediately that the windows had a light covering of condensation on them. I would have to air my car.

I wormed my way out of my bedding and opened the side door. The blast of bitterly cold air had me hurrying to get my sneakers and hoodie on. Grabbing my backpack, I made a dash for the restrooms, but, though I wanted one, I still couldn't quite find the courage to enter the locker room and take a shower.

Other than a short break for lunch, I spent the whole day in the nearby library, writing. When I eventually checked my email, Edward had replied to my text message with a photographed letter, but I couldn't tell if he was reassured by my return to our chosen lifestyle or worried by it. He said he was putting all his time and energy into completing his contract and getting his father confident in his mobility. He seemed more desperate to return than ever.

Before sunset, I drove further out to the fitness centre in Redmond. As before, I parked near to the building under a light. The lot was reassuringly busy and with the luxury of the towel service tempting me in, I went for a swim and a very quick shower.

...

My second night was a broken one. I woke at the slightest sound. Even the gentle creak of hinges, on the door of the car parked next to mine, was enough to have me stiff as a board, one hand reaching for my pepper spray and the other for my phone.

I freshened up in the fitness centre restrooms and bought myself a coffee before finding a corner table in the local library. During my lunch break, I replenished my cooler with simple foods that didn't need to be cooked. I wanted to make a hot meal, but hadn't worked out where I could go to cook one yet.

Immersed in my writing again, I didn't even realise how late it was until the library staff started closing up. By the time I returned to the fitness centre parking lot, I wasn't comfortable with the idea of showering. I found a spot as near to a lamp as possible, used the restrooms and then went about my usual routine in my car before bedding down.

...

My phone was buzzing under my pillow. I dug around and pulled it out, squinting at the bright screen. It was only seven o'clock.

"Hello, Alice."

"Bella! I'm so excited, I just had to call you. I'm going back on the road." She sounded too bright and exuberant for the hour.

"What about Jasper?" I mumbled sleepily.

"He's fine. It'll only be for a few months and he says he'll come find me every now and then."

"It won't easy, Alice, being apart from each other."

"I know, but if I don't do this now, I might never do it. It's a big event year for reenacting, so I'm going with him to Galveston this weekend, before I leave, and I've promised to be back in time to go to Gettysburg in June. After that, I'm going to take some photography classes."

"Wow, Alice, that's great!" I said, sitting up.

"Isn't it? I've attended some workshops in the past few weeks, but what I'm really interested in is processing and printing, and Jasper says he'll build me a darkroom in the basement."

"Lucky you! Where are you going to travel to?" I started to shiver as the sleeping bags slid down to my waist.

"I'm heading west, just as before, so I will get to you eventually, but I'm going to stay in the south for a couple of months. I'm not sure I can face the cold and wet of the north just yet."

"That's it! Sorry, Alice, I'm really happy for you, but I'm sitting here in the freezing cold north, I'm desperate for a pee and I'm not about to recycle a coffee cup with you on the phone and a restroom three yards away!"

She laughed a little too loudly. "Off you go then. Bye Bella."

…..

Freshly showered and changed, I drove past Lake Sammamish to the library in Issaquah. Being a Saturday, it was quite busy with children and adults, so I simply checked my email, did a little research on the Internet and left.

Around the corner, there was a market in the same chain as the one in St Helens. Pleased with the familiarity, I went in to buy some eggs and fresh vegetables, then drove to the Lake Sammamish State Park, grateful for the Discovery Pass my dad had given me for Christmas.

In the warmth of my car, I prepared several plastic tubs with chopped onions, bell peppers, zucchini, chilli, grated cheese and beaten eggs. I packed up my ingredients, together with my camping stove, frying pan, spatula, plate and a bottle of oil, and headed for the grills at the picnic area.

Edward would have surely had some quaint English expression to describe how very cold it was outside. I was extremely glad of the fingerless mittens I had on under my thermal gloves so I could handle my cooking equipment.

Once my stove was lit and the oil was heating in the pan, I relaxed into the rhythm of adding and stirring. I made two thick vegetable omelettes, eating the first with my fingers while I cooked the second to have cold for dinner later.

Despite the lack of feeling in my fingertips and toes, I had such a wonderful time I couldn't wait to do it again. I cut up and packed the second omelette into one of the plastic tubs and paced up and down, waiting for my stove to cool.

I looked around the area, noticing a few families walking alongside the lake and a father and daughter throwing pebbles into the water. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, removing one glove so I could touch the screen.

"Bella?"

"You have to look at this park!" I said, reversing the camera and turning in a circle before righting it again.

"Aren't you cold?"

"Freezing, but I just cooked two omelettes and ate one while it was still hot, so I'm not complaining."

"You look..."

I grinned at him, loving the way he was looking at me. "Yes?"

"Radiant. Happy. Ravishing."

"Thank you." I blushed. "I wish you were here with me."

"I'm working on it." He yawned. "Sorry."

"Long day?"

"Yeah. I've been burning the candle at both ends."

"I'll let you go to sleep, then. My stove is probably cool enough to pack away now and I'd better warm up before I lose a toe or something."

"I did wonder why you kept moving about." He started to laugh, but it was quickly overtaken by another yawn.

I smiled at him. "Night, Edward. Sweet dreams."

"I'll dream of you. Now go and warm up."

...

I spent most of the afternoon in a coffee shop, taking as long as possible to drink two mugs of hot chocolate so I could stay in the warm and write new entries for my blog.

Other than the two pieces I'd written at my dad's kitchen table, which I'd decided to keep private, these were the first since my attack. For the time being, these new updates would only be available to Edward, Dad, Alice and Paul. I doubted it was the case with my attacker, but I didn't want to give anyone the opportunity to track my movements anymore. Delayed posting was an easy precaution to take.

After a swim and a hot shower at the fitness centre in Issaquah, I drove around for a bit to warm up my car. It was dark when I returned to find a well lit spot for the night. I prepared my oatmeal, worked my way through the second omelette, then braved the cold night air to use the restrooms one last time.

...

The next morning, I returned to the grocery store for water, bread rolls, bacon, onions, mushrooms and cheese and drove back to the park. Again, I did my preparation in the warmth of the car, making a bouillon stock in a Thermos flask and raiding my larder crate before carrying everything to the picnic area.

The bacon smelled delicious frying in the pan. I put most of it into the rolls for lunch later on and ate the rest while I fried onions in the fat. I slowly added my ingredients to make a mushroom risotto, which I then transferred into the stock-warmed flask for my dinner.

I drove back to Bellevue to spend the afternoon working in the library. I lost track of time again, leaving the library just after seven, but when I arrived at the fitness centre, the lot was all but empty.

One lone car was parked in front of the entrance.


	29. Twenty-nine

**Twenty-nine**

My breathing became laboured as I broke out in a cold sweat. My hands were gripping the steering wheel so hard I thought it might break. Then, over the pounding of my heart, I heard the sound of Alice's ringtone.

I released one hand from the wheel and reached blindly into my purse on the passenger seat for my phone.

"Are you alright Bella?" she said, as soon as I'd accepted the call.

"How did you know?" I was gasping for air.

"Know what?"

"I think... I'm having... a panic attack."

"You are? Oh shit, Bella, do you have a paper bag to hand, or should I count while you breathe?"

"I... I don't..."

"Come on, breathe with me. In, two, three..." Alice continued to count until I was calm enough to talk properly. "Where are you?"

"Bellevue fitness centre. There's only one car in the lot. I can't...I... I really need to pee."

"Keep breathing. Hang on. Ah, that's a mid-level location. It closes at eight on a Sunday. That car probably belongs to a staff member. Wait a minute."

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back.

"It's sixteen minutes either way," she said, "but the nearest alternatives are Redmond or Issaquah, or there is a Walmart, but it's not much closer."

"I'm sure I read somewhere that that Walmart doesn't allow overnight stays."

"So drive to one of the fitness centres and call me back when you're there."

I didn't call her back the instant arrived. There were plenty of cars in the lot, so I ran at lightning speed for the restrooms then returned to my car at a much more human pace.

"How are you now?" Alice said.

"Relieved, in more ways than one," I laughed half-heartedly. "Thanks for talking me down, Alice. I feel really silly now."

"No, Bella, you're not silly. Are the staff still on site?"

"Yes."

"Many cars in the lot?"

"A good few."

"Then get yourself washed, eat something and get some rest."

It wasn't until later, when I was almost asleep, that I realised Alice had never said why she'd called in the first place.

...

The next morning, showered, changed and sated from a coffee shop breakfast, I set myself up in the library.

My inbox contained just one new email - a private message, via my blog, from Katrina.

 _Where are you now? You haven't updated in weeks. May I have your email address? I have something to tell you._

I typed out a reply, telling her I'd been in Forks throughout December and was now in and around Seattle. She must have been ready and waiting, because her email came through barely a minute or two after I'd pressed send.

 _Bella,_

 _I met someone at a New Year's Eve party while I was visiting my brother in New York._

 _Garrett is one of his old university friends, the one remaining friend I'd yet to meet. He's always been on the opposite side of the continent whenever I've been in New York._

 _He's charismatic, enigmatic and quite the comedian. When I put my hand in his to shake it, he dropped to his knees, saying he could feel a bolt of electricity running straight up his arm to his heart. His smile was just irresistible._

 _We got talking and when I told him about the building I work in, he was fascinated. Apparently, we have a love of ghost stories in common!_

 _I told him about meeting you when you travelled through Denver, about your blog and your online story, and he insisted we leave that minute for his hotel room so he could go online and read it._

 _He was very grateful afterward and then, so was I! I think we might be in love!_

 _Here's the good bit, for you anyway. My new man is a literary agent. He runs his own business and he wants to meet you. Apparently, he has several contacts that might be interested in publishing your work._

 _He travels a lot, between his clients in the west and the publishing houses in New York, hence the company name. He says he can come to you, wherever you are, but, as you'll see below, you are right in his backyard._

 _Katrina xx_

I looked at the contact details at the bottom of the email. Nomad Literary Agency was based in Tacoma and I had been in that very street just a few weeks ago, having lunch with Paul.

How ready was I to make this kind of presentation? I'd not even considered this avenue, being so set on getting published in magazines, but then I had more than enough material for a book and would only need a few days to prepare it.

Opening a new mail, I wrote Garrett a letter, introducing myself and saying that I was currently in the Seattle area and could see him any day the following week. I tried to focus on some work while I waited, but it wasn't easy.

It took Garrett an hour to reply, offering an appointment the following Monday at two o'clock in the afternoon. I had one week to finish and print out my stories.

As I revised my schedule, my thoughts turned to my partner, my inspiration, the person that sparked my creativity more than anyone and anything. If I was lucky enough to get my stories published, I would want an illustrator and I wouldn't want anyone else but Edward. I forwarded copies of the emails to him then packed up my stuff and headed for the door. If he was free, I'd need to talk to him and I couldn't do that in a library.

...

"I want to show him your illustrations," I said, propping my phone up on a crate in my trunk. "I want to present him with a complete package."

"You don't have to do that, Bella." He looked so tired.

"I want to."

"How bad is the sketchbook? Can he see that?"

"Look for yourself," I said, grimacing as I held the book open to show him the damage for the first time. "It doesn't give the best impression, does it? Could I show him the photos of your drawings - the ones you've been sending me?"

He yawned and scrubbed his face with his hands. "I could make scanned copies of some them for you, but don't print them out, just show them on your iPad. If he's that interested, I'd prefer he sees the originals. I could ship them to him."

"Oh, okay."

"When is your appointment again?"

"Monday at two."

"You'd better get busy then. Back to work! No slacking!"

I poked my tongue out and we both laughed, though his was short lived. He looked half asleep before he'd even mumbled goodbye.

...

My routine over the next week continued much as the last. I rotated around the fitness centres and the public libraries, adding in one more gym to the north of Seattle so as to avoid drawing too much attention to myself. I wrote and edited and revised every spare minute of the day, even when I was sitting in the laundromat.

I posted my drafted blog entries and added new snippets each day to tell my friends and family how I was doing, but I didn't make anything public.

Back in Issaquah for a second weekend, I cooked in the park on the Saturday, just making it back to my car before it started raining. On Sunday afternoon, I printed off the last of my stories in the library and, while I was there, I finally received the file from Edward. I was stunned.

The presentation of his work was meticulously executed, though the drawings themselves looked anything but laboured or contrived. Each displayed the same energy and passion that I'd seen when he'd worked beside me in a sketchbook.

He had recreated illustrations for all of the stories I'd written after our mystery tour and included many that I had previously seen as photographed sketches for the stories derived and inspired by my travels. Then there were scans of the finished drawings I'd already seen - the one that matched Alice's sanatorium photograph and, of course, the Wolf Creek vampire.

The only stories he hadn't illustrated were those that had been inspired by the damaged sketchbook, three of which had been taken up by the quarterly magazine.

Though I sent him a message of thanks, words could not convey the intensity of my emotion. With tears in my eyes, I packed up my things and returned to my car.

That evening, I drove south to a fitness centre in Kent for the night. I took my time in the morning, going for a long swim and a shower, and dressing as well as I could before heading to Tacoma for lunch - not that I ate anything, given how nervous I was.

...

My meeting with Garrett was far more successful than I could have ever hoped. As Katrina had said, he was charismatic and, in many ways, irresistible.

He asked me to read my favourite story out loud to him then flung himself back on one of the couches in his office, with his feet up and his eyes closed. I felt completely at ease in his company and extremely comfortable reading aloud. It reminded me of the Thanksgiving afternoon I'd spent in the garden with Alice and Jasper, and I rather liked it.

After I'd finished, he asked to see the relevant illustration on my iPad then lay back for another story. And another, and another...

It turned out Garrett had a penchant for illustrated books, so he was very excited by the combination of my ghost stories and Edward's atmospheric drawings. He hoped we would both agree to sign with him and wanted to meet Edward as soon as he returned home.

...

Coming out of the main door, I spotted a second hand bookstore on the other side of the street. I crossed over and went in, winding my way through the stacks until I came to the self help section.

I browsed the shelves until a title caught my eye. I picked the book off the shelf and slid my back down the adjacent wall to sit on the floor and read it. I hadn't done something like this in an age and was soon so lost in the book that I barely paid any attention to the customer who was encroaching on my quiet little haven.

Out of the corner of my eye, I registered the dark denim of his jeans and the soft, worn, brown leather of his boots, but I didn't look away from the words on the page.

"What are you reading?" he said.


	30. Thirty

**Thirty**

Without looking up, I tilted the book so that he would see the front cover, bearing the title "Choosing ME Before WE."

He started laughing in that deep, rich tone that made my heart soar.

"Are you going to buy it?" he asked.

"I don't need it," I replied, getting to my feet and putting the book back on the shelf. "I think I've already learned everything it could teach me by myself."

"Hello, Bella." He stood awkwardly, his right hand reaching up to run his fingers through his hair.

"Are you here to stay?" I said, stepping closer, breathing him in, waiting for him to make a move.

"Yes," he whispered, finally putting his arms around me. "I'm home."

...

We sat in the coffee shop section of the bookstore, our chairs right up against each other and our hands clasped in his lap, as we sipped hot chocolate.

"How did you find me?" I asked.

"I watched you going in for your appointment."

"You could have joined me!"

"No, I couldn't. I would have thrown you off. I waited for you to come out and followed you in here."

"Stalker!" I smiled.

"You looked so happy walking back out of that door with such an air of confidence, and that smile on your face - well, my heart missed several beats. Did the meeting go okay?"

"The meeting was amazing." I grinned. "He loved everything and he knows exactly which publisher he wants to approach first. He wants to see your artwork."

"I have it with me."

"Where?"

"I left my things at the front desk."

"Your things?"

"I came straight from the airport."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I didn't know myself until yesterday. When I showed my mom the illustrations and told her about your appointment, she booked me a flight and started packing my bag." He pulled a face. "My dad said he would drop kick me out the front door if he had to, even if it threw him off balance. They both feel bad that I didn't come when you..."

"Why didn't you?" I whispered.

"You didn't want me to." He let go of my hand and leaned away just a fraction.

"No, not if you couldn't stay." I looked down at my now empty hand and frowned.

"You made it into a joke - me asking, you saying "no.""

"We were both joking!" Weren't we?

"I wanted you to say "yes," Bella, every time I asked the question. It would have been worth every penny to see you, to hold you for just one minute, to steal just one kiss."

"You can kiss me now," I said, looking up at him hopefully.

"Here?"

"Yes. Don't you want to?"

"Oh, I want to, believe me, but once I start, I'm not going to want to stop."

...

My car wasn't big enough for us both to sleep in, not without removing half of my possessions anyway, so we found a cheap hotel and went straight up to our room.

Edward showered first, coming out clean shaven, wrapped in just a towel. I forced myself into the bathroom, put my hair up and took a quick shower, but I wasn't quick enough. Edward was curled up under the covers fast asleep when I walked back into the room.

I watched him for a while and even took a sneaky photo of him on my phone. Then I lifted the covers up to find him naked, removed my own towel and lay down beside him. Feeling the heat radiating from his body, I inched closer and closer until I could feel his skin touching mine. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift off to sleep.

...

It was still dark when I became aware of hands roaming over my body and a firm, warm body behind me.

Lips nibbled at my neck, sending shivers down my spine. One hand caressed my breast, while the other rested on my belly. I could feel his excitement wedged between us, pressing against my ass. Then, as the hand on my belly moved lower and touched between my thighs, I cried out with pleasure.

"Edward!"

His hands stilled, but he didn't pull away. "I'm so sorry, I should have-"

"Were you asleep?" I whispered into the darkness.

"I was, until you started rubbing your ass all over me."

I snorted. "I can't say I'm sorry. It's been a long time." I wriggled in his arms and turned around to face him. He was frowning.

"Did I scare you? I wasn't thinking. That's what..." He swallowed and closed his eyes. "Isn't that how he-?"

I stopped him by placing my fingers on his lips and waited until I could see into his beautiful, green eyes again.

"You didn't scare me. I knew it was you, even in my sleep. I know your scent," I said, running my nose along his jaw and down his neck, breathing him in.

He groaned and gripped my hips a little tighter.

"I know your hands." I laid a hand over one of his and stroked slowly up his forearm, enjoying the feel of his hair and skin under my fingertips. "I know your arms," I said, letting my hand wander over his body in time with my words, "your chest... your stomach... your co-"

And then he kissed me. The arm underneath my body wrapped around my upper back so his hand could cup the back of my head while the other cupped my ass.

He pulled away for mere seconds, allowing me to just about catch my breath. "I love you," he said, pressing his mouth to mine again.

"I love you," I said, gasping for air as he kissed his way down my neck to my chest.

"I don't want to stop," he said, as I lifted my leg to wrap it around him, drawing him even closer.

"Please don't stop."

"But - oh fuck - we need a, ah, condom."

"It'll be okay this one time. Trust me."

And he did trust me, without question, staring into my eyes as he slipped inside me. I'm sure both of us shed a tear or two when he paused all movement. Then he slowly withdrew completely before he entering me again, repeating the manoeuvre over and over until I experienced the most blissful of sensations as my orgasm engulfed my whole body.

"I'll never leave you ever again," he said, sticky and sweaty in my arms.

...

He did leave me again, but only for ten minutes while he ran to my car to fetch some food.

We sat in bed eating Marmite sandwiches and a bar of plain, dark chocolate that he'd brought with him from England. When we'd finished, he stood up and shook out the covers while I brushed the crumbs off the bed.

We climbed back in and turned to face each other.

"Do you want to tell me why we didn't need protection?" he said.

"My period is due any second now."

"Are you saying I'd better make the most of this window of opportunity?"

"You'd better. Your very existence depends upon it."

...

In the morning, I called Garrett. He was able to meet with us and view Edward's artwork before we left Tacoma, but we would have to return again the following week to sign our contracts.

On the way to Portland, Edward asked if we could stop in St Helens and make lunch in the park. He bounded out of the car and into the grocery store, rushing to grab a basket. I followed behind him as he selected tomatoes, onions, bell peppers, chilis, wraps and cheese.

In the freezing cold park, we worked together, me in my fingerless mittens chopping vegetables, him layering up the wraps and turning them into quesadillas in my frying pan. The melted cheese oozed out of the sides when I cut them in two and my mouth watered.

"I've missed this," Edward said between mouthfuls.

"Mmm, what, freezing your butt off while you make lunch?"

"Cooking and eating with you, fresh air, trees, greenery, space. I like our life."

We packed up and strolled back toward the parking lot.

"Can I drive?" Edward asked after we'd loaded my things back into the trunk.

"Why?"

"You'll see if you let me."

He didn't drive very far, just a few miles south to the park north of Portland. Neither of us spoke as we walked along the trail to our little, circular clearing in the forest. There was frost on the ground where the sun hadn't quite broken through the trees and the grass crunched beneath our feet.

We stood holding each other's hands, looking around, breathing in the smells of the forest and listening to the stillness.

"What do we do now?" I said.

He sniggered and raised an eyebrow, but didn't say what we were both thinking. "We go and fetch my car."

"And then?"

"We find somewhere with a large table where I can finish your illustrations."

"And then?"

"We travel, draw, write, make love, maybe publish a book or two, make love some more..."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Why shouldn't it be?"

I brushed his hair back from his face and cupped his cheek. "Did you ever look at someone else's life and think it was better than your own?"

"Not since I met you, no."

"My friend, Paul, asked me if the grass was greener living on this side of the fence."

"And what did you say?"

"I said I didn't know, but I think I do now. I love our way of life, most of the time, but it isn't the lifestyle that makes my life more vibrant and colourful."

"So what does that then?" he said, his lips twitching in anticipation of a smile.

"Me!" I grinned.

His glared at me, trying and failing to feign offence, because his body shook in my arms as he started laughing.

"I could have told you that, Bella. Whenever I'm with you the grass is always greener."


	31. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Garrett found us a publisher within a month of our first meetings, obtaining an advance payment for both me and Edward, and an additional sum toward a second collection. With a minor amount of editing and a few changes to the illustrations, our first book was in the stores in time for Halloween, though sales didn't really pick up until after Black Friday.

I offered the few stories that had not been selected for the book to the editor of the quarterly magazine, this time with Edward's corresponding illustrations. She bought them all.

Edward had saved sufficient money from his three month contract in London to allow himself a break, so we travelled south to California in search of warmth and ghostly inspiration.

Our relationship grew in intensity, both romantically and creatively, the more time we spent together. I never once felt constrained by Edward. With him I could be quiet and thoughtful or noisy and silly. I could simply be me.

During our last week away, Alice met up with us in Altadena and the three of us explored the Enchanted Forest together, giggling and shrieking like children. Alice then followed us back to Portland, keeping me company for a couple of weeks while Edward returned to work with Emmett.

In June, Esme and Carlisle came over to celebrate Edward's thirty-first birthday. Apparently, his thirtieth had fallen two days after he'd walked out of my apartment for the job in Bend. He admitted he'd ignored the date completely and I couldn't decide whether to cry about it or hit him. I did both.

His parents stayed with Emmett and Rosalie after the birthday barbecue, and every night after that except for the weekend we spent with my dad in Forks. Like Edward, they fell in love with the peace and tranquility of the forest in Dad's backyard.

We spent my thirty-first birthday at the Wolf Creek Inn, up against the bedroom wall. If the vampire came visiting, I was too distracted to notice.

As November approached, we prepared to travel to Houston and join my friends at Plantation Liendo. We took my car, Edward's tent and as little as possible in the way of other possessions, leaving everything we thought we could do without in Emmett's garage.

We retraced my original route, taking two weeks instead of one so Edward could explore everything with his own eyes and his pencil. Somehow his perspective sparked fresh ideas in my mind and I found myself constructing new stories from sources I thought I'd exhausted.

We arrived in Denver just in time to catch Katrina. She was working the last week of her notice before she moved to Tacoma to live with Garrett. Once again, she acted as tour guide around the Peabody-Whitehead Mansion, but this time she took much longer and told us yet more tales of the house and it's history.

Edward seemed to charm information out of everyone we encountered, especially the owner of Miss Molly's Hotel in Fort Worth. With some of the money we'd saved by using one car, we stayed there the night in "Jake's" room and scared ourselves silly.

At Plantation Liendo, while I was throwing myself into sewing with Charlotte and Alice, Edward catalogued the entire weekend in a sketchbook, capturing the soldiers in their camp, on the battlefield, during demonstrations and at the ball. He even drew us girls working on a quilt together.

Jasper was really taken by the drawings and asked if he could buy some. Edward was reluctant to tear the pages out of his sketchbook, so, while we were staying with Alice and Jasper for Thanksgiving, he bought some paper from an art store in Houston and redrew a few as a gift.

We said goodbye to our friends on the first day of December and took the long way back to Forks for Christmas with my dad.

...

I never knew Charlie Swan could be so devious and manipulative. Or perhaps I did. He had placed a tracking device in my car, after all.

It started with one small job painting a mural in a child's bedroom for one of the administrative staff at the police station. Then, the elementary school wanted someone to run a project with the 5th grade children painting a mural in a corridor. Then, the bank manager needed his dining room redecorated, his daughter wanted a mural for her newborn baby, one of her friends wanted something similar, a teacher at the school needed some decorating doing... and so it went on.

We had come with Edward's paints and brushes for the first job, the school had supplied most of the materials for the second, but Edward had to buy his own decorating tools for the next. My dad cleared a shelving unit in the garage for him to store everything and lent him a suspiciously pristine ladder that I'd never seen before.

In the meantime, Garrett had negotiated another deal with our publisher for a collection of children's ghost stories, so, while Edward was out painting, I was at my dad's, writing. It wasn't long before Edward was taking over my dad's kitchen table every evening, working on the illustrations.

We weren't living in our cars anymore; we were living with my dad!

Edward didn't care. He loved it in Forks and, I had to admit, with him I was rediscovering my hometown with new eyes and ears. We walked in the forest, foraged, cooked and ate, and fooled around whenever and wherever we could.

We visited the beaches in La Push, spending time with Paul and Rachel. Paul said it was a shame Edward didn't eat fish as he'd have liked to have a younger fishing buddy.

Then out of the blue - or maybe the green, given all the time we were spending half naked in the forest - I got pregnant. We didn't know how it had happened, but somehow our precautions must have failed. (Okay, so we did know exactly where and when, but we weren't admitting it to anyone.)

It was at that point that Esme put her foot down, insisting Carlisle retire so they could return to the States to be near their son and future grandchild. They bought a tired old property on the edge of Forks, set so far back off the road that the locals had all but forgotten it was there. It came with a dilapidated two bedroom cottage, which stood on the very edge of the forest. The cottage proved to be ideal for Edward and me.

The renovations became a project that united families and friends as my dad, Mark, Paul, Rachel, Harry and Sue pitched in to help us make both properties liveable before the baby came. Emmett even came to help when he was off-shift for a few days.

The interior of our cottage was rustic, with an old world charm that came from its original features and the old furniture that had been left in place. Edward created a workspace for himself with his drawing board in a corner of the main room downstairs and I created mine with a small bureau under the window in our bedroom.

We kept our possessions to a minimum, preferring the simple life we'd gotten used to living in our cars, though we did enjoy the luxury of Esme and Carlisle's wifi connection and their laundry room.

Edward loved to be able to wander off into the forest whenever the mood took him and usually came home with new drawings in his sketchbook and a bag full of greens or chanterelles for our dinner. After our daughter was born, he took her with him, strapped to his chest, so that I could either rest or write.

It was on one such occasion that I realised we weren't the only ones living in our cottage. As I sat at my bureau looking out of the window, waiting for inspiration to strike, I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye.

I turned my head fractionally to the right, just enough to witness the apparition of a young woman in a long, grey dress kneeling on the floor. She used her fingernails to raise a loose floorboard and pulled out a bundle of letters, tied with a brown, satin ribbon and…

Ah, but that's another story.

* * *

 **Author's Note & Acknowledgements**

This story would not have been written without the support, encouragement, patience, impatience, and downright bossiness of my dear friend Mortissues. Morty, I wrote every word of this for you. xx

Thanks also to:

RobzBeanie - for the years "in training", for answering random questions in the middle of the working day, and for teaching me almost everything I know about American English. Any errors to that effect were entirely my own doing!

The Ficsisters - for featuring this story on The International House of FanFic, and to Mortissues for writing the review

Tarbecca over at A Different Forest - for featuring this story in her Weekly Fic Dive campfire

And a big THANK YOU to all of you, _my dear readers_ , for reading and sharing your thoughts with me.

…

If you are intrigued by Bella's cottage ghost and would like to read "another story" then please do put me on author alert - I'm working on it!

Last laugh? I could never live in my car. I don't own one and I can't drive.


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